


Homeward Bound (AKA Far Galaxy Housing)

by pingou



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blame Paul Simon, F/M, I just roll with it, M/M, RO fandom thy name is angst, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pingou/pseuds/pingou
Summary: Homeward boundI wish I wasHomeward Bound.- Paul SimonAll our favorite characters ended up living in the same real estate complex, but life is never easy in Far Galaxy Housing, and outside of it.Modern AU/Multi-POV (RebelC, HxL, among others!)





	1. Jyn - Kathy's Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomdreamer01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdreamer01/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Two People Were Married (the act was outrageous)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639233) by [randomdreamer01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdreamer01/pseuds/randomdreamer01). 



> This is dedicated to randomdreamer01, and our shared love for Paul Simon's music. This one is longer, several chapters planned, so stick with me, juicy stuff coming soon ! Read and review if you wish to.

_I hear the drizzle of the rain_  
_Like a memory it falls_  
_Soft and warm continuing_  
_Tapping on my roof and walls_

 _And from the shelter of my mind_  
_Through the window of my eyes_  
_I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets_  
_To England, where my heart lies_

  
_._

  
.

 

.

  
Most mornings, Jyn cannot figure out how she ended up like this.

She wakes up, hears the rain falling on her Velux window, her hand still clutching her truncheons under her pillow, and smells fresh coffee. She loves the smell, even if she cannot stomach to drink the stuff. After all she has gone through since she was eight years old, she is still British enough to prefer Earl Grey tea.

She pulls herself out of bed, rubs her sandpaper eyelids, swallows the bitter aftertaste of whiskey in her mouth and crawls towards the kitchen.

Han Solo is glaring at his caf like it just insulted his beloved "Millennium Falcon" — the amount of love the smuggler has for his battered crate is ridiculous, but it's not the point. Neither Chewie nor Lando seem to be around and Jyn is relieved. Their cohabitation is hard enough as it is.

"Hi Solo. Where's the rest of your little scoundrel band?"

"Dunno kid, couldn't care less at the moment."

He is obviously more hungover than she is, but she does not care. He brought that on himself: everyone knows you cannot compete with Calrissian in a drinking contest, the guy has two livers and then some. Hell, she managed to out drink that giant oaf of Chewbacca before passing out, but she knew she couldn't go any further without ending in the nearest OR. See, she gained some sense since she ended up on the streets at sixteen, waiting endlessly for Saw Gerrera.

She finds a tea bag, and uses hot water directly from the tap. She hears distantly Bodhi yelping in outrage at the thought of a tea "with no proper infusion process", but the little shit left her to deal with her shady acquaintances for the week-end — hence the orgy last night. Her best friend would have talked her out of it, or at least made sure she did not drink herself into stupor.

There are boxes everywhere. Bodhi and she moved in the Far Galaxy Housing real estate three months ago — along with Han and Chewie — but they have not settled yet. They never do, anywhere. Not since Saw abandoned her, not since Cadet Rook lost all of his relatives in a fire and dropped out of the academy.

They met by chance in Saw's Bar in London, "The Partisans". She had been fifteen and he soon to be eighteen, so both stood out between adults planning Force-knows-what. Bodhi said he was Galen Erso's messenger and even though she already went by Kestrel Dawn at the time, she sought him out. Her father was one of his superiors, and he was familiar enough with his features to instantly recognize the mint green eyes she inherited from him. Then they lost contact for a while, six months or so, and it is actually thanks to Han they met each other again, in a Scottish pub of all places.

She tried to gamble money from the American, and while they chatted on, he mentioned he and his associate just took in a pilot intern kid who had the same British accent she had. He hailed Bodhi and their eyes met. When Han tried to do the presentation — "Bodhi Rook, this is Lyra", he just smiled in this shy way of his, and said "Yes, I know, she's Jyn Lyra Erso, named after her mother. I'm still Bodhi though, if you don't mind."

It's one of the few times they found Han Solo speechless.

"What has you smiling like that, Erso?"

Han seems a bit more aware of his surroundings, and he has just cut her trip to memory lane short: it's just as well, for what followed is not worth remembering. Bodhi and she in black clothes, rain and tears on their faces, as they watch the entire Rook family being buried. Rain brings her to that fateful day a few weeks later on the Eadu platform where she lost her father to a gunshot. She hates the bloody rain with the fierceness of a thousand hells, but she can still see it drenching slowly the street below through the window.

"I just remembered the day I met Bodhi again," she finally says too sharply to chase the heartbreak away.

Her roommate lifts an eyebrow at her brusque change of tone and her sour mood, but he shrugs. That is why she likes Han, he never pushes, and he is easygoing most of the time.

Until suddenly they hear a familiar female posh voice outside their front door and instantly it is Solo's time to frown :

"It's preposterous, Tarkin can't choose to rise rent as he pleases, half the residents are already apartment-sharing due to the exorbitant price of that damn building! The management committee won't sit still for it!"

"It's not worth raging over, Lee, come on, I'll ask Father the next time I see him..." the calm voice of her blond brother intervenes.

"Vader can go fuck himself for all I care!"

Talk about Daddy issues : between Galen and Saw she is not one to judge, but Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker bring family mess on a whole new level. Twins separated at birth, the girl went to her Godfather Bail Organa in Washington DC while the boy was taken in by their uncle on a farm near the Mojave Desert in California. The mother was a famous liberal senator and the father had been a former war veteran, "the Hero With No Fear". Anakin Skywalker may or may have not known fear then, but since he took the name of Vader and became the second man in the country after Palpatine seized power, he's the one terrorizing people. That's why the twins were separated at birth (they were born on Empire Day, it's no coincidence). They only ended up sharing the flat across from theirs when their respective guardians passed away a few months ago, and their uncle Ben had brought them together.

The amount of orphans and lost souls in that building is oddly high, if you ask Jyn. Force, she hates being hangover, she always thinks too much, and gets lost in her own musings. That's why she was does not prevent Han from opening the door on said twins and growling:

"If Vader can go fuck himself, so do you, your Worship!"

Oh, they're screwed. Luke's astonished face loses color when his sister reddens and her dark eyes blaze.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I won't excuse you at all, you don't get to screech about your bastard of a Dad up to my bloody door. Some of us need peace!"

"I don't screech you stuck up, half-witted scruffy-looking nerf herder! It's not my fault you're probably nursing a hangover!"

The woman is so on point Jyn can't help but snort and even Skywalker has to hide a smile, his clear blue eyes twinkling (Bodhi has a thing for him, so she notices details about her best friend's crush, so she can tease him later).

"Who's scruffy? I'm not scruffy lookin' ! And who said anything about me being hangover? If I've got an headache, it's only because of you princess!"

These two really don't know when to stop... Their aggressive flirting is starting to get on her nerves, and she debates going back inside the apartment and slamming the door in their faces. The "don't leave me alone with them" vibe she gets from Skywalker is the only reason why she has not yielded to her instincts yet. It would be like kicking a puppy and Bodhi's crush or not, even she is not that cruel.

"Could have fooled us, we're near enough to have heard the ruckus you all made last night! The next time it happens, we're calling the cops!"

"Lee, could you not bring me into this, please?" The blond asks with a long suffering sigh.

"Some of us have a life, senator, and despite how much the Empire tries to crush our freedom every day, it's not a crime! You're nineteen turning on ninety, you know that? You need to lessen up."

"I hope you're not offering your services?"

For Force' sake! That's it, on a whim, Jyn reaches for Skywalker's hand and somehow pulls him back in the apartment after her. If Solo makes his move, no one needs to see that.

He stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway, so Jyn gestures for him to sit.

"Tea, coffee, milk? I fear there's not a single drop of liquor left."

"Oh, it's fine, a glass of milk would be nice, thank you."

Is this guy real? He can't have come from the same womb as Leia Organa... he's far too polite and nice and quiet. And a glass a milk, should she try to find some cookies to go with it? But well, she did offer after all.

The corridor has turned oddly silent, but that doesn't mean the coast is clear. For a few seconds, the patter of the rain that keeps on falling on the roof is the only thing that can be heard, until he says:

"I love the rain, don't you? On the farm, growing up, it was so dry we used to long for it, my Aunt Beru and I. It's refreshing, soft and peaceful, brings back good memories."

It's really not. Rain is her mother falling on the grass of their English garden to never stand up again. Rain is her cold and wet in London, rain is Bodhi shaking in the cemetery, rain is her father gasping Stardust as she cradles his face in the middle of the North Sea. Jyn, let go, you gotta get out of here, murmurs an Mexican accented voice in her mind, and finally she snaps out of it.

There is something akin to compassion in Skywalker's gaze now, and once again, she curses her weakened state. When sober, she doesn't let her emotions show. She doesn't think of her time in UK at all, period.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she deflects automatically.

She refuses to bond with her neighbor more than absolutely necessary. She is not charming like Han, she is not boastful like Lando, not trustworthy like Chewie, and sure as hell not as friendly as Bodhi. She doesn't do people, people always leave in the end.

"Thanks from saving me back there anyway," he tries again with an hint of a smile.

"You're welcome. If you ask me, we'll all have to club up and rent them an hotel room. The sexual tension and constant bickering is driving every tenants insane."

"Tell me about it," he says, pulling a face, "but she's stubborn and he's dense, so this could go on for quite a while still..."

"You can crash here a bit, if you want to. I don't mind and Bodhi should be here soon."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want Mr. Rook to think I'm imposing in any way, but —"

Finally, Jyn thinks as she struggles to hold back a snigger, the twins are similar, they are just as dense and obvious when it brushes feelings. The poor guy has turned beef red and he sinks further in his ramblings. It's hilarious to watch, and her spirits are momentarily lifted. As if on cue, Bodhi enters then, and between Skywalker and he, Jyn really wish she had her phone at hand to capture their identical deer in the headlights expressions.

But when she chooses to leave the two men together, pretexting the need to lay down a bit, walls close down on her and she lets herself curl in a tight ball against her bedroom door. She is kind of claustrophobic — comes with experience — and she clutches her mother's crystal necklace for reassurance: Trust in the Force.

She has gone too far and too often down memory lane since she woke up, bringing back ghosts of her past, and now they are haunting her. It's still raining outside, and soon it rains on her cheeks too. Loneliness chokes her, but she can't move from her spot yet. She could go back into the room, sit beside Bodhi, watch his awkward conversation with Skywalker enfold, see if Han finally graced them with his presence, if Chewie came back... but she's struck, condemned to stare at the pitiful blotches left by water on the glass above, on her clothes beneath.

  
.

  
.

 

.

 _And as I watch the drops of rain_  
_Weave their weary paths and die_  
_I know that I am like the rain_  
_There but for the grace of you go I_


	2. Cassian — Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall

_Through the corridors of sleep_  
Past shadows, dark and deep  
My mind dances and leaps in confusion  
I don’t know what is real  
I can’t touch what I feel  
And I hide behind the shield of my illusion

 _So I’ll continue to continue to pretend_  
My life will never end  
And flowers never bend  
With the rainfall

  
.

  
.

 

.

  
Cassian Jeron Andor is used to follow orders, even to a fault. His upbringing in the poorest part of Mexico didn't leave much choice.

He had lost all his family by the time he was six, first to an earthquake and then to an Empire "retribution of political disorder", and he had been taken in by a military man, Major Davits Draven. He was strict, unrelenting, but Cassian owes him everything that he is now. So when he and Mon Mothma asked for him to infiltrate the Far Galaxy Housing real estate, he did so without question. He would wait for instructions like a good little soldier.

After four years, it is still hard to go on missions without Kay, but he manages. James Kay has been his best friend, his favorite partner for seven years, since the Mexican was nineteen. When they met, Kay was already twenty-eight, a British statistician and engineer of genius, but socially inept (he never said, but Cassian is quite sure he suffered from Asperger syndrom). He died, riddled with bullets, in the Scarif Research Center, so that the mission could be completed. A mission where they had defied orders, and went Rogue with an handful of civilians, for the greater good. It had been their only infringement and he literally went to hell for that. Most days, Kay's monotonous voice saying goodbye for the last time tortures Cassian a lot more than the limp he got since (he fell from the thirteenth floor a damn building, it's a miracle he is still alive, let alone on his feet).

Captain Andor follows orders blindly, now. Orders are all he has left.

Or so he thought.

Entering in the elevator, his bag — only filled with the utmost necessities — instantly falls to the floor. All his spy training flies from his head as he finds Bodhi Rook gasping his name in the tiny cabin, trembling as a leaf.

He doesn't think as he pulls the shaking lean man in an embrace, clutching him and trying to shift furtively his weight on his good side.

"Force, Cassian... I... How? Why are you here? I can't believe, I can't process it..."

 _Process it_. One of Kay's favorite verbal tic. Both recoil as if slapped and Bodhi clears his throat, wiping his wetting eyes. For his part, Cassian's mind is still reeling and can't utter a single sound yet. His long lost friend seems okay, if otherwise shocked out of his wits: his thick black hair is shorter than the unkempt cut he sported four years ago, his face less gaunt, his gaze steadier.

And if Rook looks this improved, that means he is certainly not alone.

"Jyn, where is she?"

Smooth, Andor, Kay says dryly in a corner of his mind, as he sees Bodhi grimace and close his eyes. After years apart, her name still comes unbidden to his lips, kind of like Chirrut used to intone his prayers, his Mexican accent softening the sound of her name. Baze had told him once Jyn meant gold in Chinese, for her mother had been a follower of their religion, and thus chose a strong and pretty name for her daughter.

Strong and pretty she was from the first moment he saw her, he hopes she remains as shiny and resilient and unblemished, too.

"She... she's around, Cassian."

"Of course she is. You're never far from her."

Unlike me.

He is truly pathetic, he knows that, to pine for her so openly after all these years. Kay would have scoffed at his stupidity, for sure, maybe actually smacking the back of his head, sprouting figures about his lack of restraint when it comes to Jyn Erso, but Bodhi only shakes his head.

"I... are you visiting someone?"

"It's work related."

Rook wants to know if he came for Jyn, for him, perhaps, but tries to be aloof about it. It's commendable, but useless, because the pilot always had a glass face. Neither of them have tried to push a single button yet, so the elevator is still stuck on the ground floor. It's appropriate, but he cannot delay his meeting any longer, so instead of rising the bait, Cassian's finger presses on the seventh floor, where General Ben Kenobi is supposed to wait for him. Bodhi can't repress a jolt at that, and doesn't reach for the panel as they start their assent.

He lives there, on this very floor, which means he might run into Jyn sometime, and at this realization, his heartbeat gets embarrassingly quicker... Whether she bunked in with Rook or not, she is bound to come see him. Cassian is not sure if he wants to see her or not, but what is certain is that he is not at all prepared to breathe the same air as she again.

When they reach their destination, they bump into each other trying to come out, and Bodhi's eyes widen as he takes in the slower and more careful way Cassian walks since Scarif. Thankfully for the Mexican's pride, he keeps his mouth shut, and if there's recognition in his black eyes, he is kind enough not to address the obvious. Then he stays two steps behind while Cassian looks for the number of Ben Kenobi's flat.

Which is the one situated across from Bodhi's, apparently. Cassian rises an eyebrow, seeing his friend hesitate to enter his own home, but before they can have proper goodbyes — not like last time — someone opens the door on them:

"Captain Andor, here you are, I've been expecting you."

At once, Cassian appraises former General Ben Kenobi: There's something odd in his clothing, but he can't pinpoint what. He has the weathered face of someone who aged prematurely, but a sharp mind under grey-blue eyes, for all that.

"Forgive my tardiness, Sir—"

"It's my fault, Ben, actually... I haven't seen Cassian in a very long time and I delayed him, the blame is on me."

He had not expected Bodhi to vouch for him like this, at once and with a voice that doesn't quiver in the slightest. It's nice of him, Cassian thinks, no one has had his back for so long, now, that he hopes the cinnamon colored man can read the gratitude on his face.

"Really?" Kenobi asks, stroking his white beard thoughtfully. "How interesting... don't worry on my account though, you're not so late. But you certainly will be, Mr. Rook, if you don't hurry, you were just about to go out, were you not?"

"Yes, I... I forgot something, that's all, have a good day."

"You too, Bodhi, it was really nice meeting you again."

If Kenobi wasn't so keen on observing them as if they were rats in a maze, Cassian would have tried more than banalities. You don't exchange courtesies with someone who went willingly to hell and back beside you, estrangement be damned.

But after the last hint of a smile, Bodhi's door closes on him and personal wishes take backseat to the reason why Andor was dispatched here in the first place.

"General, I've been asked to see you."

The old man, thin but eerily graceful, sighs and finally let Cassian into his home. A sparsely decorated one — a stove, a table, three chairs and two cupboards, nothing more. Nothing hung on the wall except three photos:

From his debrief, he recognizes Senator Padmé Amidala Naberrie, and her husband Anakin Skywalker. It's obviously a wedding photo, and a younger version of Kenobi (fleshier, happier) holds them both by the shoulders. Cassian looks at the man who would become Vader, and doesn't remember looking this young, this carefree. Something horribly bitter churns in his stomach, and Andor forces himself to return to matters at hand. Usually he's not so brain-scattered, but Rogue One — the mission, the people — has always been his weakness, the black hole which always threatens to swallow him whole at the first occasion.

Kenobi seems to be a patient man, however, and shows no signs of annoyance at this stalling. Not all Generals are as severe as Draven, and Kenobi officially retired twenty years ago, but Cassian had read about him, knows him by reputation, and he knows the war Veteran, for all his courtesy, is dreadfully effective if need be. If every Rebel commander respects him and fears his actions — or lack thereof — it's not without good reason. The silent appraisal of Kenobi would be unnerving if Andor wasn't used to use it with his own targets.

"So, Captain Andor, I hear you're moving in the complex? I hope you'll have a pleasant stay here."

The British accent and extreme politeness reminds Cassian of both Kay and Jyn, and he feels like cutting the chase. At this point, eluding would be pointless.

"I guess it'll depend on you General, to be perfectly honest. I've only been told to infiltrate the facility and contact you at once."

"Yes, I know, General Draven is regularly trying to contact me. But first, would you care for some refreshment? You look a bit ruffled, if I may say so."

It wouldn't be polite to refuse, and besides, Cassian does feel lost. His mind is racing, nowhere and everywhere all at once, and his right side is killing him. He needs to sit, but is stubborn enough to deny it until offered. He nurses his glass of water and lets Kenobi educate him on the situation.

"You can tell Rebel intelligence that my answer hasn't changed: I won't use the twins as leverage, Captain. Unless it's their choice, they won't be used as tools against their father, or the Empire at large."

"I'm not even sure it's why I'm here, General."

"Oh, but I am. You're not the first to try to persuade me, or covet the twins for the Rebellion, you know? Leia has already chosen a legal way to fight the Empire, and Luke doesn't want to. There is a reason why I took them back with me after... after the Empire severed their attachments. I'm the only one left to protect them, and I will do so until my last breath."

"Protect them from their father?"

"You're an intelligent man, Andor, do you honestly think Vader doesn't know where they are, and what they do? As vile as he is, if Vader wanted to take them, groom them, he could. Their apparent neutrality is what protect them, from the Empire and the Rebellion both."

Once, Cassian would have bristled at the idea of the Empire and the Rebellion being the same, said neutrality wasn't an option, but that was before what happened on the Eadu platform, before the Scarif Research center. Jyn's voice still echoes in his ears, agreeing with Kenobi : "I’ve never had the luxury of political opinions,” and the worst of it, “Orders? When you know they're wrong? You might as well be a stormtrooper."

"I see," Cassian declares calmly. "If it's truly the goal of the mission I've been sent for, it appears I've been set up for disappointment."

It's not as if it's a novelty, after all. Kenobi's face is kind, but resolute. No matter how much time or tentatives the Rebellion will apply, Ben Kenobi will not withdraw from the stance he adopted, that much is certain. The key of the furnished apartment on first floor he just retrieved from the janitor is heavy in his pocket, and Cassian debates admitting defeat before starting.

He could just say he couldn't persuade him and try to forget Bodhi Rook is living a few feet from where he's currently sitting. Leaving the complex at once, just like that, would be the cowardly thing to do, the _right_ thing to do. But as if the man were reading his mind, he adds in a gentle voice:

"You're welcome to try, however, Captain. I've got a feeling you might gain far more than what you've come to seek, in time."

This kind of cryptic platitude instantly brings Chirrut Îmwe to his mind and Cassian feels something like a shudder going along his spine. He can't possibly know what ties him to Bodhi, and the rest of them, whether they are alive or not. Still, he feels like Kenobi sees right though him, and he can only nod his assent. He's been set for a long term infiltration after all, a few days in a luxurious complex such as Far Galaxy Housing cannot hurt.

He tells himself he just follows orders, nothing more, and ignores Jyn's face and Kay's voice calling him on his lie. Cassian Andor is nothing but a good soldier.

  
.

  
.

 

.

 _No matter if you’re born_  
_To play the king or pawn_  
_For the line is thinly drawn ‘tween joy and sorrow_  
_So my fantasy_  
_Becomes reality_  
_And I must be what I must be and face tomorrow_


	3. Bodhi — The Boxer

_I am just a poor boy_  
_Though my story’s seldom told_  
_I have squandered my resistance_  
_For a pocketful of mumbles_  
_Such are promises_  
_All lies and jest_  
_Still, a man hears what he wants to hear_  
_And disregards the rest_

  
.

  
.

 

.

  
Bodhi feels more and more like he belongs in Far Galaxy Housing.

Once, there was a boy, surrounded by girls and aunts and a grandmother so old she only had a single tooth left. The boy — Bodhi — had been happy and pampered, sheltered, safe, during his entire childhood. He'd been a little king in a peaceful kingdom ruled by women.

It's far more than Jyn ever got to experience; he knows that. His family came from India, initially, but all that ties him to this part of the world today is his own complexion. All the rest, what had been — and what could have been — perished in the fire of the modest home they all grew up in. He would never know more, and each day that passes finds his memories fading a bit more.

He had never been brave, nor particularly intelligent, but he had been determined to provide for his family. His father was a pilot (died in the sky, granny Veena said) and his father before that. The Rook family wasn't rich by any means, but it was relatively well-known and he managed to enter in an Aviation school which was secretly linked to the Empire. At the time, he didn't know this, of course, in his little corner of London, all he saw was that the Galactic Academy offered the easiest scholarships, no more.

Bodhi should have known the world was not as he thought it would be. It was tiny things, at first: the Empire's control is an insidious thing — and yes, according to Ben Kenobi, there's irony in the fact that Palpatine himself had once used the alias "Sidious" before discarding all pretense of modesty.

Anyway, at sixteen Bodhi had been far from politics and all that jazz. But the Empire soon caught up with him, and he found himself doing questionable dealings, swearing to secrecy, during internships in firms owned by the gangrenous organization. That's how he met Professor Galen Erso. Their association had been random enough for nobody to suspect anything was amiss: what business could the most prominent research engineer have with an average Cadet like him?

But an inner voice was nagging him, there were rumors of terrorist activity, of financial lobbying, political pressure... it wasn't _right_. And when Galen confirmed the Empire's influence was worldwide, Bodhi wasn't as surprised as he should have been. He had had a bit of a crush on the older man — his intelligence, his melancholy and his luminous green eyes featured too regularly in his thoughts not to be more than hero-worship — and when he asked for him to relay a message to the owner of a Londoner bar called the Partisans, he did.

And his life turned for the worse when he encountered Saw Gerrera.

In the mist of questioning and a distrust so potent it earned him nightmares for years to come, he also met the so-called Kestrel Dawn — even at fifteen, she already was a piece of art, a weapon sharper than whatever her father could come up with. It was the eyes, the way she hovered over him once he mentioned Galen's name that permitted him to put two and two together: the official story wasn't true, if Erso was indeed a widow, his daughter Jyn was still alive — even if she dealt secretly with dangerous separatists.

By the time he got away, they were friends and he had been able to relay a message to Galen about her wellbeing — if not his — before the scientist was sent to the Eadu platform, somewhere in the North Sea, by Empire’ orders, of course. Then he tried to make himself scarce, and wait for his instructions: he was already a deserter and was too damaged to come home, so he tried to avoid his family, he had to protect them.

He somehow found shelter in Scotland — through two friends of his religious community, Chirrut Îmwe and Baze Malbus — and he met Han Solo — an American who looks more like a renegade cowboy than the goods provider he seems to be. And let's not forget his associate, a tall and hairy guy nicknamed Chewbacca, who had been mutilated during a war and ended up mute, only managing to communicate through animal-like sounds and written words. They were nice, though, and they took him in without question, which was unexpected for the shell of a man he was by that point.

Then he came across Jyn again, and this "Lyra" version of her was famished, haggard and more tormented than he remembered seeing her half a year before: a kindred spirit. But the worst had yet to occur. They had gone back to London together, persuaded they could work it out, helping each other in staying out of the Empire's radar. It wasn't easy, but he was glad for the company. They hid in the temple he'd been familiar with, thanks to Baze and Chirrut and learned they and Lyra Erso had been acquainted, which made Jyn smile for the first time in ages.

But the Empire got wind of them, eventually, and while the four of them were shopping — of all things — they blown the whole temple up. Chirrut and Baze were petrified by grief, of course, but Jyn made him run through underground tunnels, instinctively worried about his own house in Southall in western London.

Like always, they were too late.

He had felt numb, unable to register the flames licking his home away. His brain, already shook by the Partisans' torture, refused the reality of his family burnt alive in front of him — he could not bear it, to stand and watch in such a way, in the crowded street he knew better than anywhere else in the world. But Jyn was here, coaxing him into mingling with the passers by, with the fire squad — making the probability of a sniper finishing the job unlikely.

She'd been here too, to hold his hand during the service, he remembers. Baze and Chirrut at their shoulders, four pieces left bereft but desperately trying to fit in together — to survive. There, among the tombstones, they met Rebel Captain Cassian Andor and his “partner of choice”, James Kay: the man was almost as tall as Chewie, and offered his condolences in an unnatural robot-like voice, all tightly pinched lips and unblinking eyes under round gold wired glasses. It was a bit spooky at first, but Bodhi had liked Kay almost instantly.

He can't bring himself to reminisce what happened afterwards in anything but bribes, its pieces as sharp as broken glass. After years, his mind is still too fractured to grasp the whole picture, and he's oddly thankful for it: memories of murders, destruction, broken bones and lives lost are better left evanescent.

Bodhi cannot imagine how anything could assuage the burden of all they have lost, but he hopes all the same. Rebellions are built on hope, Jyn said as she had tried to bring the brunch of poor fellows into a deadly research center, once. He remembers that: Rebellions are built on hope. Well, according to Kay, she had nicked that line from Cassian, but the point still stands.

"Captain Cassian Andor intends to be busy for the duration his stay", Ben had said to him with a mysterious smile just this morning, and it seems to be true: his friend is always up and about in Far Galaxy Housing and its district. Bodhi feels like he's seeing Andor everywhere he goes, but as far as he knows, Jyn has not seen him yet — he's quite sure the consequences will be cataclysmic, once she does. No, this time the Mexican might be biding his time, maybe waiting for Jyn to come to him somehow, but in the meantime Bodhi doesn't know if he should even broach the subject, and neither Chirrut nor Baze are here to give him a hunch anymore.

He doesn't waste time in wishing for Kay's opinion, though, if he'd been alive still, the man would surely have bodily thrown Cassian on his shoulder (he had towered over everyone, at more than six feet five!) and would have gotten them both far from here.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror — he's currently shaving in the bathroom he shares with Chewie — and sees the razor shaking in his fingers, against his cheek. But he's not frightened, he is almost amused and his lips are smirking like he doesn't want to but can't help it. Not all memories are bad, every vanishing smoke doesn't make eyes water.

He always shaves at night, making lists in his head to help him commit events to his feeble memory. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it feels like a lost cause, but doing mundane things, like showering, shaving and the like steadies him, like his mechanic tasks do by day.

He's getting there, he is sure of this. The Empire is still everywhere, surrounding unsuspecting people, but in the complex there's a bubble of serenity, a kinship between the tenants that is oddly comforting.

Life is funny sometimes, by Galen he met Jyn, who met Han and Chewie, who met Luke and Senator Organa and General Ben Kenobi, who met Cassian. The chain reaction is downright puzzling, and his reflection — freshly shaved — is now grinning in the mirror.

But his happiness is short lived, as suddenly a screeching sound raises in the silence of the flat, like a siren. Danger. His first inclination is either to grip the sink, steeling himself against the sound and the instinctive terror it provokes, or to cover his ears altogether.

The loud wails echoing into the night sound barely human. Han has the closest room from Jyn's but Bodhi runs so fast across the flat that they — along with Chewie — barge in together.

She screams like a banshee, until all that leave her throat are pitiful squeaks and soundless sobs. Her bright eyes are vacant and red from tears, and Han only saves his nose from being punched because Chewie blocks the way of her flying fist and circles her from behind. She looks startlingly childish, kicking and struggling against Chewie's constriction — a bit like a toddler throwing a tantrum — but there's nothing funny, and he tries not to lose it either. Not until she's calmed down.

"Jyn! You're okay, you're safe, it's Bodhi!"

But she doesn't react and it occurs to him that it's far too dark in her room — maybe she doesn't see them well enough. So he steps forward, and pulls her head against his pyjama top. She breathes slowly into the cotton and her fury abates. He always uses the same soap, its spicy scent reminding him of home, and he is sure she can smell it, as she inhales.

After a few breaths into his shirt, above his frantic heartbeat, she quits struggling and Chewie is confident enough to let her go. Bodhi tries to hold her too, but she flees from his grasp, retreating against the wall farther from her bed, near her wardrobe (she always leaves a large niche empty, in case she needs to hide, besides, she doesn't have much clothes and things to begin with).

Knowing Jyn quite well, Han retreats back to his bedroom without comment, Chewie pats her head with some sort of rumbling comforting sound before leaving too, but Bodhi takes her state with the gravity it deserves.

Consolation has never been Bodhi's strong suit — as usually he is the one being consoled — but he feels Jyn's current weakness as a failure. Maybe the need to administer reassurance so frequently to him has begun to wear on her? Force knows she is good at concealing her inner struggle on a daily basis, but to reach that level of night terror, it has been obviously brewing within her for a long time.

He should have seen it, sensed something was wrong before her nightmarish screams woke everyone here — and perhaps their neighbors too. She's back to curving into a ball now that it's only the two of them, retreating in her wardrobe like a child playing hide and seek, and he wants to hurl himself. He knows she won't attack anymore, but she is not ready for him to reach out either.

"Jyn, please come out."

After more than a decade of meltdowns like this one, Bodhi doesn't need to hear or see the words on her lips to guess she repeats silently: I'm hidden, I'm safe, nobody can find me. The bastards — Empire and Partisans and Rebellion alike — really did a number on her, that's no question, but what puts him on edge is that he hasn't the slightest clue of what triggered the episode in the first place.

Has he been so caught up with the lull of Far Galaxy Housing not to notice Jyn wasn't fine? He saw her talking with Ben Kenobi today — perhaps he said something? About the Empire, the rebellion, or worse, about the fact that Cassian is occupying a flat on the first floor? He's pretty sure he's undercover as Joreth Sward. The mailbox that now bears the name wasn't used until a few days ago, about the time he met Cassian in that elevator. He's not stupid: his long-term memory may perpetually be foggy, but he is still able to make sense of what is happening under his nose.

"Did... did you learn something upsetting today, Jyn?"

No answer from the wardrobe, but Jyn starts to count aloud, first in English, then in Danish (Galen's first language) and finally in Spanish until she reaches sixty, which leaves her a whole minute to calm herself a bit. He's familiar with her coping techniques, so he doesn't interrupt until she is done, but hearing Spanish falling from her lips when Bodhi is almost ill from keeping Cassian Andor from his best friend... As soon as she leaves her hiding place, he blurts:

"I saw Cassian, he's here, in FGH."

With a flinch similar to a spasm, Jyn sets her gaze on him, with betrayal plainly etched on her every feature despite the darkness around. But there is also something else in her eyes and he realizes it's mortification: she lost it before even knowing Cassian is back in the picture. She already had to deal with this shame without him bringing Andor into the mix — it's clear that if she ever wants to see him, it's neither the time nor the place to think about it. Bodhi tries to gulp but it hurts. He tries to pull out his hand, helping her stand up, but she slaps it away with so much vigor the sound reverberates in her darkened room.

"Can't you just go back to the hole you belong to, Rook?! I don't need you yapping at me! It'll be fine in the morning!"

His patience clearly irritates her as much as her own inability to keep it together, and Jyn's best defense tactic has always consisted in attack. Force, she meant to punch Han in the face only moments ago... Thinking to spare both of them the shouting match which is sure to follow if he pushed her again, he reluctantly relents, but he doesn't sleep at all for the rest of the night.

  
.

  
.

 

.

 _Now the years are rolling by me_  
They are rocking easily  
I am older than I once was  
And younger than I’ll be  
But that’s not unusual  
No, it isn’t strange  
After changes upon changes  
We are more or less the same  
After changes we are  
More or less the same


	4. Luke — Bridge Over Troubled Water

_When you’re weary, feeling small,_  
_When tears are in your eyes_  
_I will dry them all_  
_I’m on your side_  
_When times get rough_  
_And friends just can’t be found_  
_Like a bridge over troubled water_  
_I will lay me down_  
_Like a bridge over troubled water_  
_I will lay me down_

 

_._

 

 

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_._

 

 

Luke Skywalker is many things: a dreamer, a farmer, a mechanic, a sportsman... but most of all, he's a witness.

Maybe it came with growing up in a desert era. Back when he was on the farm with Owen and Beru, when his chores were done and he couldn't play with Biggs or phone Leia, there was nothing else to do but think and look around, and think about what you have seen. He stargazed more often than anything else, but when someone as taciturn as Owen Lars raises you, you learn to read body language, to pick up tiny details that are relevant.

Life on the farm had been quite harsh, and a pretty isolated one, but it doesn't mean he lacks common sense. He knows he's the laid back twin, and that he's optimistic when his sister is a driving force, and cynical on a good day. It usually suffices to reduce him to some sort of simpleton, not up-to-par with their parents' legacy. 

He alone bears the family name of Skywalker, as the Organas legally adopted Leia from the start. Owen wanted to honor Grandma Shmi this way, so her name passed on to him as a baby, since her own child wisely chose another name once he started to commit the... things the Emperor bade him to do. Maybe Father, in discarding his birth name, chose not to soil Shmi Skywalker's memory. It's what Luke chooses to think, but as always Leia disagrees, saying it's giving the monster too much credit.

Uncle Ben never picks a side on their family matters, saying everyone is entitled to their own opinion "from a certain point of view". Leia hates such kind of lukewarm statement, as for her, the world is a dichotomy of black and white — of Empire and Rebellion. Luke knows better though, the world is painted in various shades of gray and it's all there is, really. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were gray people, and the only relative who thought like his sister turned from white to black when their mother died.

Luke may have Anakin's looks, but Leia has Vader's emotions. 

He loves her far too much to tell her though, considering she hates Emperor's hand and usually denies the reality of being biologically related to him. Honestly, he cannot say he blames her for that — Father didn't try to save Bail and Breha Organa when he heard the Empire wanted to make an example out of them — but he did protect Leia and him when she was brought to questioned, afterwards. He wasn't meant to be in the Empire's main annex anyway, but Father and uncle Ben worked out a diversion (they've staged Ben's death, no less) and with Han's help and his tuned up engine, they came out relatively unscathed.

To Luke it counts for something, they wouldn't have the opportunity to live together in Far Galaxy Housing otherwise, but Leia is rather unforgiving.

An angel in heaven, Padmé perhaps, or someone in hell, probably Father, had deemed them worthy of embodying a second chance. Maybe they are meant to redeem the situation they find themselves in, the whole Empire/Rebellion mess, since Biggs, or this Joreth Sward bloke seem to think so. Is his current life supposed to give him direction? Because at the moment, unlike his sister, he has none.

Ben kept in touch with an old pal of his, a man whose nickname in the Corps had been Yoda (weird, right?) and he accepted to train Luke for the holidays. He doesn't know why it's so important, and he loathes leaving Leia, Biggs, but also Han and Chewie who have become his friends, but the old man is adamant. Both Luke and Ben — as instructor — are to go to the Dagobah training center in a swampy area of Louisiana. Thankfully, Bodhi Rook will accompany them, as they offer a psychological support program, so he won't be completely alone in a strange place.

It doesn't mean Leia is glad to see them go, however, and she's been in a foul mood since Ben announced their impending departure. On the contrary, their surrogate uncle is as pleasant and calm as ever, slowly turning his spoon in his morning cup of tea, but his unruffled indifference makes his sister huff every time, cheeks coloring, and Luke has to stifle his laugh.

Before Leia can bicker over their trip a bit more — and if her clenched jaw and stubborn frown are any indication, she wants to — the doorbell rings and Bodhi Rook, backpack in hand, makes a sheepish entrance. Luke is not sorry for the interruption, though, seeing his sister upset always takes a toll on him, and she's viscous when her pride is wounded.

When they leave, he hugs Leia while she bravely smiles and brushes Ben's reassurances aside. He's not fooled either, but goes to help Bodhi with luggage to give the twins a few minutes alone. As soon as the door closes, she hugs him tighter, and dozens of innocent kisses rain all over their bows, their cheeks, their noses and their mouths. It has always been their parting routine as far as they can remember, but they know it would be shocking to an audience.

When he gets in the car, Bodhi is driving. Their eyes meet in the rear-view mirror, and if Luke's are shiny, the big black ones looking back understand. Ben's scrawny hand comes to pat his shoulder across the seat, and he declares gruffly:

"Come on boys, don't be so glum yet, wait for the training camp and its dreadful canteen, only then you can whine a bit. Neither Leia nor Miss Erso deserve to be worried about, you will!"

Luke is not sure Ben is joking, but they smile nonetheless — as it turns out, Ben wasn't:

Two days in and Luke is aching everywhere, in places he didn't even know about, and he is hungry — the food is barely edible, and that's saying something, since he has never been a picky eater in the first place. Yoda, the tiny toad-like old man who trains him is completely nuts, that much is certain. He speaks a bit funny too, often saying things backwards.

(Leia almost peed herself listening to the impersonations he made on the phone last night. He doesn’t mind suffering this peculiar kind of training camp if it can bring a laugh out of her. He fell asleep with the receiver in his ear, her giggling lulling him to slumber.)

This afternoon, Ben and Yoda teach defense class together, and he sits next to Bodhi. The first half is dedicated to meditation, as foreseen; Luke knows the drill, as Ben has started to teach the twins this kind of exercises as soon as they had fallen into his care, six months ago. What is surprising though, is the evident ease in which Bodhi takes to them, chanting in time with Yoda like intoning a well-known nursery rhyme:

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.”

His face is relaxing further with each word he repeats, his British accent noticeably different, more exotic, and Luke distantly wonders why. Up to this point, he didn’t even know Bodhi was a Force believer, but there’s no mistaking the familiarity, the infectious joy (far too intense to be trivial) at being carried on by the ritual of it all, thanks to the gnome looking man who sits cross-legged in front of them.

Afterwards, there’s no trace of this peacefulness in Bodhi’s short turn at the ring with a random opponent, though, and when Luke finds his neighbor again, he mumbles “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me” like this sole mantra could calm him down. He is staring at an old photo, the weathered kind that one keeps in a wallet just in case: a harem of Indian women and girls, all clothed in shimmering saris, with a young Bodhi — in an imperial pilot uniform — proudly seated in the middle. 

“Are you the only boy,” he asks, trying to imagine tenderhearted Bodhi caught up in Imperial aviation academy — Owen always opposed on him going, and he’d been right, Biggs lost himself there.  

“I was. Apart from Jyn, I’ve got no family left.”

"What happened to them," he presses gently.

Bodhi is thoughtful, glancing back at his family, and at the picture of a teenage Jyn tapped with it, as he croaks:

"A fire."

"What started it?"

"No one knows, but it wasn't accidental," he shakes his head, his gaze starting to shift nervously. "I always suspected foul play, a punishment for my involvement with Galen and Saw Gerrera — that’s what Jyn thinks. Scotland Yard too, perhaps, if they ever were on the case. I never asked, didn’t have time, then, and now… I’m all that remains anyway, so does it matter?"

"Well, I'm not in your head, but judging from the way you just destroyed your opponent up there, I'd say it does."

Bodhi fought like Miss Erso would have, aggressive and restless and... _borderline_. He is not proud of it though, and it shows in the way he's blushing and fixing his shoes. Luke is quite sorry to have pointed it out if it makes his neighbor feel exposed, but then again, he is quite familiar with his usual boxing, after months of training together on FGH's ring.

"You're right, you're not in my head, and thank the Force for that. You'd be lost in there anyway. I am, most of the time."

"I don't know about that, I'm quite good at finding the light when people can't seem to."

There's something far too sardonic in that statement to come from Luke, as he always tries to appear as sunny as possible, but thankfully Bodhi doesn't ask. Maybe he does not feel like he has the right to pry, considering he is senator Organa's brother after all, and it's obvious Leia terrifies the poor chap, he thinks with a smile.

Force, he misses her already, she's literally his other half and missing her is like missing a limb. He can't remember what it was like not seeing her every day, not sharing space and confidences and jokes. He knows they had lived almost all their life as only children until half a year ago, but after basking in their "twinness" as she calls it, it feels like a torture to be separated from each other.

She is better at hiding it, of course, she always have been, but he hears it in her clipped voice, the void she feels, the same he feels. He hopes he’ll soon be beside her again, for she’s the helm to his anchor, and they can't hope to sail anywhere without each other.

 

 

_._

 

 

_._

 

 

 

_._

 

 _Sail on, silvergirl_  
_Sail on by_  
_Your time has come to shine_  
_All your dreams are on their way_  
_See how they shine_  
_If you need a friend_  
_I’m sailing right behind_  
_Like a bridge over troubled water_  
_II will ease your mind_  
Like a bridge over troubled water  
I will ease your mind 


	5. Cassian — Señorita with a Necklace of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RebelCaptain reunion you were waiting for...  
> Please, consider leaving a few words, even it's only "good" or "bad", it would make my day so much brighter.

_If I could play all the memories_

_In the neck of my guitar_

_I’d write a song called_

_“Señorita with a Necklace of Tears”_

_And every tear a sin I’d committed_

_Oh these many years_

_That’s who I was_

_That’s the way it’s always been_

 

 

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Draven is losing patience, it's fairly obvious: since he moved in Far Galaxy Housing — on the first floor, since his leg can't bear more than two stairs in a row — Cassian has accomplished nothing of what he'd been ordered to.

As a matter of fact, the temporary respite he is granted surprises him. After a week or two, his halfhearted tries to bring the Skywalker twins into the Rebellion have proven to be as fruitless as General Kenobi said they would be on that first day. Maybe the former veteran has something to do with this, but what would he gain from his staying here?

Whether or not he deserves to live in FGH, the complex offers a complete training facility and Cassian puts it to good use, when he's not snooping around the neighborhood. He's on borrowed time anyway so he may as well make the most of what the Empire has to offer in terms of entertainment, he reflects with a grim smile.

After a few painful turns on several fitness equipment (gotta keep as shaped as possible, even if the rowing machine is a bitch) he ends up at the shooting range, the targets calling to him to them like magnets. If there ever were any doubt of the Empire involvement in that real estate, this would erase it immediately: who else if not a paranoid criminal organization would offer a shooting range in a outstanding complex?

Nevertheless, Cassian registers under Joreth Sward and fires away. Shooting targets accurately is far too easy to provide good distraction though, his gun as much of an extension of his arm as it's ever been. A born sniper, Draven declared proudly after his first assignment at sixteen.

He hasn't aimed at living targets since Galen Erso, four years and half ago, but he can remember adjusting the visor so that the cross ended up precisely between familiar green eyes, despite distance and the thick veil of rain that fell on the platform. Some nights, in his dreams, he pulls the trigger at the scientist and it's Jyn who dies.

There's blood on his hands, even awake, no matter if in reality it was either the Alliance bombing or the Empire firing squad that killed Jyn's last relative. Cassian killed so many, and forsake so much in the name of the Rebellion since he was but a lad... He didn't deserve to survive the Scarif Center really, but he tries to give some purpose to the chance he has been given. Kay would have wanted that, he knows — they had had talked of that eventuality many times before they even came to the UK. 

His friend had wanted to lie in British soil, anyway, in a remote village in Wales. He had no business there, but he said he liked the scenery of Snowdonia National Park. Cassian took his word at face value, persuaded that if his partner were killed in action, he probably wouldn't outlive him anyway.

He'd been wrong in this like in everything else, and tries to get through his survival alone. If Cassian were to give a name to his emotional crutches, deepest guilt and constant self-loathing would be it. He is not blind to his trauma — the psychological one, since the physical offers no possibility of denial. He gets mixed results on that front, but giving up is not an option as long as the Empire exists. He hears someone entering the room behind him, but he doesn't bother with turning around to see whom — yet another mistake.

"Force, Cassian!"

It is only through sheer force of will that he keeps himself from jerking back with surprise, at the sound of her voice. She's visibly agitated and upset and exhausted... but she's glorious. He feels her in the air he breathes, and her eyes — so green against the purplish shadows beneath them — are fixated on him. She's barely changed, more luscious than she was maybe but he has trouble reconciling the twenty-one year old Jyn he last saw, not to mention the ethereal version that still haunts his dreams, with the woman in front of him.

"I can't believe that you're here," she whispers, like she's talking to herself, echoing his thoughts.

"Well, I am Jyn. Hello."

It's the wrong thing to say, and if he mentally face-palmed after saying it, it's nothing compared to the very real slap that comes up to his cheek a second later. 

He could have avoided this, he does have good reflexes, but his upbringing is Catholic enough for him to accept that as penance: "Whoever hits you on the cheek, offer him the other also." He somehow knows that it's a verse from Saint Luke the Evangelist (his Abuela's favorite) and the random fact that he and Skywalker share the same name strikes him as funny — so to speak.

"Hello? You're kidding me Cassian? Hello?”

"It's the polite thing to say when you meet someone, I believe."

"My arse it is! I don't _deserve_ politeness from you!"

"You've made that statement quite clear, my cheek is still stinging."

But to be honest, he is not sure it's so much because of the slap. She is invading his personal space for the first time in years, at once so familiar and still intoxicating, and he can't cope with this. He's not ready. But he's a spy first of all, and he comes forward to murmur discreetly:

"Can we go anywhere else, somewhere private? Or at least go back to the lodgings part of the complex? Someone might be listening."

She shudders at his breath stirring her hair, he thinks — he's more occupied by the smell of her shampoo filling his nostrils — but she doesn't argue as they leave the facility. He keeps proper distance and lets her walk ahead. Jyn is set on getting answers, though, and starts to prod him in hushed tones, holding back to fall in step with him:

"We're bound to have a talk, sooner or later — or do you think you can avoid me forever?"

"I can try."

"Bodhi can't keep a secret from me, you know that."

"He spilled the beans, then?"

"Somewhat. He told me you were here last week, but not why, I didn't give him a chance to explain, as I wasn't..."

She trails off, shame evident in the curve of her mouth, and he guesses she had probably lashed out before Bodhi could say anything. She's impulsive like that, always have been, but because he doesn't want to let her dwell on it, he fills in softly:

"Even if you had let him talk, there wouldn't have been much to say, we met by chance three weeks ago in an elevator, that's all. Besides, you're allowed to freak out, Force knows we were at wits' end too."

"You take lifts?" she asks in a strangled voice, refusing to meet his eyes.

He knows what she's referring to, of course he does, that elevator suspended between hell and redemption, both of them cramped in the tiny space in the dark... He takes it at least one night per week still, with various outcomes, all distressing upon waking up. He clears his throat and tries to maintain the appropriate amount of detachment as he answers:

"I try not to, but sometimes taking stairs is too tedious for me."

"I understand, I can't either, most of the time, not if I'm alone."

But she wasn't alone that time, and neither was he. For a brief moment in time, that elevator in the Scarif research center had been all that separated them from the Reaper. The sound of frantic breathing, the brightness of her eyes in the half-light, the stench of sweat and blood, the warmth of bodies pressed tightly together... 

He manages to snap out of the recollection somehow, when Jyn's voice takes him back to the present:

"If you didn't know about Bodhi — and me, I suppose — what is your goal in turning up here, in Far Galaxy? It's an Empire ruled place, after all. And they are not really subtle about it, as you can see," she shrugs, encompassing the whole complex with a noncommittal gesture.

"I know, but FGH is not as interesting in itself as the people who reside in."

"I feel like there's a clue somewhere," she says, making his heart clench at the familiar spark of challenge lighting them. "Are you all right?" she adds, when she realizes he struggles not to fall behind too much.

Actually, this walk is turning into a chore, and he can't bring himself to meet her gaze again, in case he would see pity there. But he feels like he owes her an explanation, because she was the one who had ensured that he came out alive in the first place, so he replies: 

"I have to walk frequently, it helps with the muscle spasms, but I'm sorry I can't match your pace anymore, Jyn."

Thunder breaks nearby, but he's getting tired so his limp worsens and the pressure on his leg grows as he must drag on his lame foot with each steps he takes.

"Run ahead before you get wet," Cassian urges as raindrops start to come faster around them.

"I don't care, we're almost inside but even so," she replies, putting her slender arm across his shoulders, "I'm with you, all the way."

And just like that they are not in that stupid real estate complex anymore, they are in Scarif: on that suicide mission to get Galen Erso's plans and destroy the most powerful weapon the Empire tried to create — worse than twenty atomic bombs put together.

Force helps them.

He stumbles as his knees buckle under him, from tiredness, from shock, from memories or plain gratitude... and maybe she's too weary to support his weight anyway, or maybe she feels the same... but she falls on her knees too, still flushed against his side.

He doesn't let himself think as he turns his head and he kisses her temple — just a long press of his lips against her soft skin, really — but her shoulders slump and he hears her sharp intake of breath. He doesn't know why he does that, maybe it's what he had always wanted to do in that hellish center, or on the Eadu Platform, or even back in London, after the attack against the Jedhan temple. He feels his chest heave, remembering how her whole body, held tightly against his had been the only thing keeping him together — quite literally — before other rebels and paramedics came to their rescue.

Too late to save James Kay, too late to save Chirrut Îmwe, too late to save Baze Malbus and the twenty poor volunteers who had willingly created a diversion at the sake of their own lives.

But here they are, on their knees, on an expanse of green lawn in front of the flats' entrances, even though neither of them cares. They breathe in sync, feeling the gentle rain crying in their stead as it slowly wet their cheeks and a carefree giggle escapes Cassian for the first time in years.

Nothing changed since this morning, but Jyn Erso is here, and that makes all the difference in the world.

 

 

 

 

_._

 

 

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_._

 

_Some people always want more_

_Some people are what they lack_

_Some folks open a door_

_Walk away and never look back_

_And I don’t want to be a judge_

_And I don’t want to be a jury_

_I know who I am_

_Lord knows who I will be_

_That’s the way it’s always been_

_That’s the way I like it_

_And that’s how I want it to be_

_That’s the way it’s always been_

_And that’s the way I like it_

_And that’s how I want it to be_


	6. Leia — Peace Like A River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Leia Organa's turn to speak... with a spacial guest star.
> 
> Enjoy and comment if you want to.

_Peace like a river ran through the city_

_Long past the midnight curfew_

_We sat starry-eyed_

_Oh, we were satisfied_

 

_And I remember_

_Misinformation followed us like a plague_

_Nobody knew from time to time_

_If the plans where changed_

_Oh, if the plans were changed_

_._

 

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Senator Leia Amidala Organa prides herself for being a levelheaded person. She always knows what to do, even when she doesn't, really. She cannot afford to be surprised enough to be at a loss. Besides, idleness is the ultimate plague, if you ask her.

She remembers being young, though, on one of the rare occasions her parents — Bail and Breha of course — took her to stay with Luke, Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru and Ben. The farm, near the Mojave desert in California was called "Tatooine" for some reason, and they all stayed there for the fifteenth anniversary of Grandmother Shmi's death. She had thought it quite a morbid affair, but she didn't mind being with Luke. 

It has always felt wrong, being separated from him, and that's why even now, they chose to share the same bedroom. They are almost twenty but they instinctively miss the closeness they had in the womb, after losing the guardians they had known all their lives. 

Anyway at the time, she believes they were seven or so, she had crept up to her brother's bed on the farm, only to find it empty. He had snuck out outside, and was craning his neck, trying to watch the stars. At first she found that stupid, but he only smiled at her with his patient smile of his, and told her to give it a try. They ended up starry-eyed, their limbs completely entwined and Leia had never felt the benefit of just stopping and enjoying the moment like she did that night.

When Luke moved in Far Galaxy Housing, in the aftermath of the Organa’s and Larses’ burials, the first thing he did was buying those cheap star-shaped fluorescent stickers to decorate their bedroom's ceiling.

Only then did she allow herself to cry in her brother's embrace, far from prying eyes that had expected her to crumple. He smiled that patient smile again, linked his limbs to hers and let her cry and rage herself to sleep while staring at these childish shapes above their heads.

Now is not the time to surrender, however, since by general consensus, she has been appointed as the tenants' representative in the management committee of FGH. Considering her other increasing political duties, this should be like a piece of cake, but she needs all of her wits when dealing (even in a harmless context) with the Empire.

Usually she can predict their motives blindfolded, but the fact that Tarkin has the ear of "the Emperor", that old snake of Sheev Palpatine, means she must tread carefully. If nothing else, it's quite suspicious of one of the Empire top five agents to be playing Landlord like this, as it's far below his position within the Imperial hierarchy. Despite his unfortunate Dutch name, Wilhuff Tarkin is not a man to be laughed at, he's ambitious and cunning, so there has to be some hidden motives Leia is missing.

"Upon careful prodding, it seems several of our current tenants are... nefarious for stirring up trouble. If such information were to come to our attention again, you can expect we'll take appropriate action."

"It doesn't mean you should discriminate them, raising rent arbitrarily. You're still bound to common law, you know, if not to mere decency."

"It probably shouldn't surprise me that you would entitle yourself as defender of the downtrodden, given your history."

"My history, as you but it, has nothing to do with it. I've simply been taught to decipher between right and wrong from an early age."

"At your own expense, though."

His comeback is immediate, bolder and more straightforward than his usual pompous formulation, and a chill runs down her spine: something turned openly malicious on the man's face, hidden just below the surface of his tight smile, making his razor-sharp cheekbones stand out even more. At her own expense? Did he speak of her parents, or does he tells her she's getting too involved? With bravado she gracefully shrugs, looking at her nails briefly as if bored:

"Whatever gets the job done, besides I'm sure not I am not the only one defending what I think is important."

"Perhaps not, but you're the most famous around here. I find you very daring, senator Organa."

"Is that a threat or a compliment?"

"I'll leave that to your appreciation, if anyone can beat the odds, it's you."

Despite her best effort to get the meeting back on track after these cryptic words, she can’t draw anything more than frustration and a sense of unease from this afternoon meeting. Her sixth sense is alerting something is looming, through she doesn’t have a clue of what. She resolves to be careful, though, particularly of new working relations who tend to be overly friendly with the “young, famous and promising” senator Organa.

Betrayal always comes wrapped up in a friendly cloak.

Luke refuses to acknowledge this, although Ben's haunted gaze confirms it whenever they catch him staring at the photos hung in the main room: at his joyous face at their parents' wedding, or at the picture of Luke on a tractor in front of the farm — Owen and Beru beside him — or finally at the picture of Bail and Breha Organa both holding her hands as she poses with a ridiculous princess tiara and hair buns. All of their lives are summarized in these three photos, separate but forever weaved together nonetheless. Friendly faces of a family frozen on film and no longer alive because of the Empire — when they weren't simply turned apart beyond all recognition, which would have been a kinder fate:

Vader has always been a diffuse presence in her life, in the hushed whispers, in the news, in the non-speaking conversations that would occur above Luke’s and hers heads for as long as she can recall. He was the monster hidden under her bed. Whereas Luke has been raised by their Uncle Lars, idealizing the missing father-figure of Anakin Skywalker, she had a father in Bail Organa, the best she could have had.

Which is why when she finally came face to face with the shell of a man that terrorized hundreds of people aware of the Empire, even paralyzed by her parent’s loss and with Owen and Beru’s, she spat the truest thing she could think of:

"You can kill me but you can't kill what I stand for... and you won't stop justice."

"I won't kill you, child, even if I don't care what you think you're standing for. There's no justice for any of us."

She hates Vader, because she resents him for having sired them and despises the Emperor's pawn he became since. But she never forgot those words, enunciated in the gravelly voice of a murderer who has a face so similar to Luke's, for all that it’s barely recognizable from the man in the wedding photo.

There's no justice for any of us.

She works restlessly to prove him wrong, because she doesn't have the luxury of having Luke's faith in a greater good. It's something he inherited from their mother, or so they were told. However much characteristics she shares with the woman who had been Senator Naberrie, wife of Anakin Skywalker, faith is not one of them.

She doesn't bother with politics to help democracy prevail; she does it to prevent oppressing organizations such as the Empire to spread their influence. It's not the same mantle: her mother may have been a pacifist and so is Luke, but she's a warrior, and she won't rest until Palpatine and his goons — Vader included — are all locked up in the interest of public safety.

She knows her intransigence worries Ben, she is not blind to the random flashes of recognition he has when she fails to hold her temper back, and hears the well practiced refrain of his measured words about dealing in absolutes. 

But the very building she lives in is full of people who know about the Empire. They are not part of the unsuspecting mass of civilians the organization relies on, and it's hard to ignore Mrs. Shara Dameron, rocking her infant son Poe in mourning clothes, or Biggs Darklighter jumping at every slamming door, or Lando Calrissian barging in ostensibly richer with each visit but unable to meet anyone's eyes for more than a few seconds. It's hard when she hears feminine cries piercing the night until she has to hide under her brother's covers like a scared little girl, because she's left alone for a few days.

It makes her angry, and she doesn't care for Luke's optimism or Ben's caution, she just wants to make the Empire pay for all these broken lives.

Lost in these somewhat dark musings — it’s always harder to see the brighter side without Luke’s sunny disposition around — she stops in her tracks only a few steps away from the large futuristic building of FGH.

Leia is faced with the sight of Jyn Erso on all fours in the grass beside Joreth Sward — or Captain Cassian Andor of Rebel Intelligence, if Ben is to be believed. She has other fish to fry rather than wonder about aliases, anyway. He's a rebel, in bad physical shape as far as she can tell, but he tried to bring Luke into the Alliance and that she cannot forgive. 

He is far too naive still, purer than her, somehow, so any push in the rebel direction and he would find himself honor-bound to do something reckless, regardless of his own safety or her subtle undermining work. But even so, if he were meant to follow any lead but his own, Luke wouldn't need this Latino from Force-knows-where; her brother is perfectly able to make his own decisions! 

She catches Erso's gaze and raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, waiting for some kind of explanation — it doesn't even need to be the truth, as really, she doesn't care — but the British woman is not impressed and holds her chin defiantly despite the awkwardness of their position. She can respect that.

"Mr. Sward, do you need some kind of assistance?"

The man seems to finally realize she is right in front of them, but to his credit he remains remarkably composed and collected, with even a slight creaking at the corner of his eyes, as if she just missed a private joke of his.

"No, thank you for your concern Senator, we'll be fine."

The surprising use of "we", too emphatically stated to be entirely casual, has Erso jumping on her feet, getting free from their weird proximity — almost a loose embrace, Leia notes. Once her neighbor is out to stand, she leaves without so much as looking at the man still crouched in the grass, and without acknowledging her at all. Leia is quite offended — on her behalf and that of the spy's — but most of all, her interest is piqued. 

There's story here, and Han should be able to fill her in, besides, she doesn't have anything — or anyone else — more interesting to do. Errrr... anyone else to _see_ , not do, of course, she mentally corrects with flaming cheeks (is it possible to make a slip of tongue without speaking?) Neither Han nor Luke would let her live it down if they knew...

In the meantime of her blaming silently her stupidity and Solo — always Solo — the man got back on his feet with a weary sigh. She does feel a bit bad for not helping him at all, but he had refused, didn't he? She's sure Luke wouldn't have taken no for an answer, though, and she feels horrible.

"Senator? Weren't you about to enter?"

The poise of that man is outstanding, that much she concedes, his expression as neutral as Ben's when he wants to hides his emotions from her, and their similarity annoys her a bit. No matter how many times the Skywalker twins try to school their features, neither she nor Luke can reach this level of aloofness. Bloody military training!

"I was, Mr. Sward, I bid you a good evening," she replies in a cool tone while the man — still smiling softly — holds the door open for her like a proper gentleman, not caring about the grass stains on his trousers.

Before entering in the elevator — he takes the stairs, which is an odd choice since he limps — Leia hears him whistle an upbeat tune. While she heard it before, she cannot place it, but the fact that such a chirpy guy could deal with someone as broody as Erso makes her smile. 

Luke is chirpy and he puts up with her own bitchiness most of the time, after all, so she knows what she's thinking about.

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_You can beat us with wires_

_You can beat us with chains_

_You can run out your rules_

_But you know you can’t outrun the history train_

_I‘ve seen a glorious day_


	7. Jyn - Fakin' It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn copes, at least she tries...
> 
> Reviews make my day so much brighter, please if you liked it, consider leaving a few words.

_Friends become strangers_  
_Compassion is hard to express in words_  
_The trembling flowers they bring_  
_Fear in the roots and the stem_  
_What happened to me, they know could happen to them_  
_Can I forgive him?_  
_No, I cannot_  
_Can I forgive him?_  
_No_

  
_._

  
_._

 

.

  
Jyn Erso is good at running. As a child, her parents signed her up for athletics, and there wasn't a single thing in the world she she loved more than to race when Papa and Mama were there, cheering for her in the bleachers or waiting for her at the finish line. Galen always picked her up, cradling her little body to him: no matter if she won or not, they were proud of their little Stardust.

  
That fateful day in rural Devon when Orson Krennic shot her Mama was actually the last time she raced. She had promised to wait for Saw, she hid, and from the time he came for her until he abandoned her, she forgot what it was like to run for fun and had learned to run _away_.

  
She sprints now, desperately trying to reach the safe haven of her wardrobe, and she takes the stairs, firstly because she knows Cassian can't follow her anymore, and secondly because she'd rather be dead than taking a lift after what they talked about. She feels her legs pushing up effortlessly even when she is struggling to breathe properly, and she hates herself for it. Cassian was so reliable before, his presence a beacon of light in the blackest hell, but following her had destroyed him. She had Bodhi to fall back on, he had lost Kay, he had nobody.

  
As soon as she opens the door of the flat, she throws up.

  
She is coughing and retching and sobbing and shaking, and she hates herself for being so weak.  
Cassian smiled at her, Cassian touched her, Cassian kissed her... and she's a mess. She hates him, she hates herself, she hates the Empire and their kriffing Rebellion. She literally vomits the whole thing, because it's all she can do. She hears steps approaching — she's on her knees again — and the inquisitive growl-like sound of Chewie asking if she's all right.

  
Of course, she had to be caught, again! Was her night terror not enough already? She has already humiliated herself, and she had hoped that with Bodhi momentarily gone, what is left of her dignity would be spared this time. But no such luck, as Chewie reaches down and grabs her firmly, bringing her to the couch, all the while ignoring her feeble protests.

  
"Chewie! Why the hell is there puke everywhere? That's disgusting!"

  
A snort erupts from Jyn at hearing Han's affronted tone. While he's crouching down to wipe the vomit with a disgusted grimace, she remembers how many times they had to clean up _his_ mess after drunken nights, celebrating one thing or commiserating about an other and the man beside her rolls his eyes good-naturally, probably thinking about the same thing.

  
She can't bear to leave him yet, though, he's warm, and his long brown hair is soft and comfy, like a teddy bear, or a beloved dog. Of course, she would never tell him that, but she's not even sure he'd be offended by the comparison. It's just the sort of guy he is, a walking security blanket who can turn deadly in case the situation requires him to be.

  
Han slouches down on the couch next to them with a huff, not paying attention, until Chewie grunts. Solo considers her disheveled state, with her clammy and blotchy red skin, and he stands up, quickly going to the liquor cabinet to fetch three glasses and whatever liquid courage he thinks she needs.

  
"It's a rough month for you, isn't it kiddo?"

  
"Yes," she says as she empties her glass in one gulp — it's tequila, because apparently the Universe can't leave her alone — and she grimaces.

  
She remembers a night club, the Yavin 4, in Copenhagen — Galen's birthplace — where she drank so much of tequila, or mescal, or whatever Mexican poison Cassian preferred. They had had toasted to her Papa's memory, to the Jedhan temple, to the Rebellion — even to Kay's Irish woolen socks — and she remembers Bodhi laughing with Baze and Chirrut while Kay primly explained why Irish wool had the best heating properties.

  
She remembers Cassian asking her to dance while the others cat called and bet on whether they would make out. She remembers how thrilling it had felt to let him lead her, how much of a good dancer he had been, how she had longed for him to kiss her at the end, even if it was only a smack, or a simple brush of his lips against her skin.

  
How fitting it is that it happened a bit earlier? Did he remember that night? Or is she the only one torturing herself with memories, since Bodhi can't recall these last moments of happiness? She doesn't wait for Han or Chewie to finish their glasses to have a refill. It burns, but she needs the reminder.

  
She needs all of it back, despite the fact that it's impossible, she wishes for her Rogue One family: the way Chirrut and Baze always believed in her, the way Kay was distrustful at first but loyal until the very end, the way Bodhi was thriving, the way Cassian just was, period. Han and Chewie are great, but they are no substitute for what she has lost in the Scarif Research Center. She automatically feels guilty for having such thoughts, but she can't deny it. As much as she likes her friends since the first time they met in a Scottish pub, they never became part of her surrogate family. Surely because she has kept people at bay after the Rogue One debacle.

  
Despite that, they prove to be good company, as always. And as her brain gets fuzzier, she watches Han complain about Leia Organa to an increasingly lethargic Chewie. The bottle is empty now, as empty as her stomach, and she feels much lighter, if not better.

  
Which was the point, she supposes.

  
She loves her flat mates very much for understanding she needed to get trashed and she tells them so. They both guffaw at that, Han calling her a softie while Chewie pats her head gently, as he's so often prone to do, and for once, Jyn doesn't mind being coddled like a typical female. It feels good to lay down her weapons like this, it's easier when Bodhi is not here, because she often has to be the strong one. Now she can relax for the time being.

  
Someone knocks on the door and Han opens it with too much fervor for someone who is "just slightly buzzed, Erso." The sight of his crush does nothing to sober him, though.

  
"Princess! Missing me already?" Han drawls, complete with his trademark smirk and waving eyebrows to boot.

  
Both Chewie and Jyn burst of laughing at his antics and even the girl smiles.

  
"You wish, Solo, apparently you are occupied with drawing your sorrows, again, so I'll come back later."

  
"Come on, your highness, don't be a spoilsport and join us, it's not even my sorrows we're drowning!"

  
"Thank you very much for that, telltale," Jyn mutters darkly while Chewie rolls his eyes again.

  
Their neighbor glances at her then, past Han, and her dark brown eyes soften a bit. After pointing out unnecessarily that Luke and Kenobi are not at home, she nods and that traitor Solo lets her in, of course. Jyn wants to glare and retort "who's the softie now?", but Miss Organa takes place next to her, smoothing her white dress to avoid wrinkles and Jyn doesn't feel like teasing anyone anymore as she stares at her empty glass.

  
"What's your poison?"

 

"I'm not so much of a drinker, I'm afraid, do you have any soft drink?"

  
Han snorts, teasing her about being the only twenty years old girl he knows who respects the drinking age limit, but she haughtily replies that as one of the youngest elected senator, it is expected of her to abide to the law and that Luke never drinks alcohol either. Their banter is boring Jyn already, but at least she can appreciate Leia's comebacks.

  
"Do you like milk? Skywalker does," she blurts out sagely, in case Han didn't know that.

  
Leia smiles again, looking at her in quiet amusement, and the expression is startlingly familiar, for it's the same one her brother made when she saved him from witnessing PDA a few weeks ago.

  
"I do, even though Luke has more of a taste for it than I, growing up on a farm and all. I think any kind of juice would do the trick."

  
"You speak like a queen, Lady Jane, d'you know that?"

  
Force, it's high time Jyn gets her mental filter back, she can't go on sprouting whatever strikes her drunken fancy! She's starting to sound like _Kay!_ Chewie howls in laughter and Han does too, handing a can of apple juice (with a straw!) to their guest, and Jyn blushes like a schoolgirl.

  
"You're one to talk, Miss Erso! I believe you're the only Queen’s subject here, if I'm not mistaken."

  
"You do sound more... sophisticated and use more proper English than me," she insists — because now that she's in the hole, she might as well dig — "why is that?"

  
"I'm an American born and raised, but I had the most British upbringing you could imagine: private boarding school and Scottish governess were among the privileges of my childhood. I've always been jealous of Luke's freedom, in that regard."

  
"So I was right, your Worship! You're royalty!" Han chimes in with a triumphant grin.

  
"Hardly Solo. But I'm still too good for the likes of you!"

  
This time, it takes some effort for Jyn not to groan aloud in despair. There's some kind of consolation in the fact that at least, Chewie has a good excuse not to repress his, being mute and all, because the two other people in the room are yet again on a slippery slope. Jyn walks a bit unsteadily to the coffee maker in the kitchen, and pours herself a cup. She doesn't like coffee, and cold coffee is even more disgusting to swallow, but she needs to sober up and avoid their flirting. Drunkenness or not, some conversations shouldn't be allowed to occur at all, particularly after the afternoon she just had!

  
After the second one, her heart pomps faster and her vision clears up a bit, the stuff being thankfully as effective as it is nasty. She comes up with a piece of bread and some goat cheese after that, and she considers herself much improved.

  
"Erso, unless you're comatose, come and say bye!"

  
How old do Han think she is, she silently seethes, six? Come and say bye, Stardust, echoes Lyra Erso in the recesses of her memory, in the mental cave where she hides memories she can't deal with. Her scowl deepens but she complies, saying in a cheerful singing-like tone that makes Chewie shake with hilarity:

  
"But of course, Mr. Solo, we don't want to appear uncouth nor ungracious in front of Senator Organa, now, do we?"

  
She even attempts to curtsy before their smirking guest, while it's Solo's turn to scowl at her theatrics. Revenge, even for such a petty reason, tastes always sweet to Jyn.

  
"Godspeed, Senator, and good night."

  
"Likewise, everyone. If it helps, Miss Erso, I left our friend in good spirits," their neighbor declares conspiratorially before entering in her own deserted flat.

  
_Cassian_. Just like that, all playfulness is wiped away from her, as slight as this allusion may be. Yielding to her manic urge to flee, she left him without sparing him a single look, even though he had always came back for her. He had never left her alone, given the choice, and she just let him down in every sense of the word. How could he be "in good spirits"? Was Organa teasing her? Was she lying? Perspiration breaks on her skin and her eyes sting sharply, a lump rising in her throat. But to cover her trouble, and because she needs to think about anything else, she turns to Han at her side, and teases:

"You don't plan on ravishing her, now that she finds herself with no chaperone?"

 

"Look who has naughty thoughts, now kid... so much for being gracious. There won't be any funny business tonight, besides, she's not ready."

  
She doesn't ask how Han knows that, but the idea that he cares enough to wait warms her all over — some tequila after effect, surely. She glances at her friend, roguishly handsome at this late hour, hands in his pockets and still fixing the closed door in front of him, and she doesn't know what to say. They are drinking buddies, flat mates and partners in crime more often than not, but Solo keeps his heart close to his vest and she's notorious for saying the wrong thing... she may be a girl but she'd be the last to talk about relationships.

  
That's why, once Han and Chewie have gone to bed, Jyn goes down to the mailboxes, next to the janitor's lodge, and tries to recall the name Leia had called Cassian earlier. She jogs her memory, and finally a pristine tag catches her eyes on the 'first floor' shelf:

  
Joreth Sward — Apartment A3.

  
_._

  
_._

_._

_Is there any danger?_  
_No, no, not really_  
_Just lean on me_  
_Takin’ time to treat_  
_Your friendly neighbors honestly_  
_I’ve just been fakin’ it_  
_Not really makin’ it_  
_This feeling of fakin’ it_  
_I still haven’t shaken it_


	8. Cassian — Stranger To Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the TRUE RebelCaptain reunion.  
> Cassian and Jyn in all their glory, right in FGH, ladies and gentlemen.
> 
> Please consider review if you've liked what you've read, I also take questions and critics...
> 
> Most of all, enjoy!

_Stranger to stranger_  
_If we met for the first time_  
_This time_  
_Could you imagine us_  
_Falling in love again_  
_Words and melody_  
_So the old story goes_  
_Fall from summer trees_  
_When the wind blows_  
_I can’t wait to see you walk across my doorway_  
_I cannot be held accountable for the things I do or say_

  
.

  
.

 

.

  
Cassian wakes up with a start, heart pounding painfully in his ribcage, and instinctively reaches for the knife hidden under the bolster. It's not the usual "my dream is too horrible (or accurate) so I must wake up NOW" kind of start. He heard something, his gut feeling is the only reason he's still alive, and if he thinks he heard something, it's because someone made a sound.

  
He is not paranoid, he is just a rebel officer hiding in a uncharted bastion of the Empire.

  
There it is again, the creaking of floorboards. He had worked a few loose in front of his door, so that if he lends an ear — and he usually does — he could know if someone was nearby. Quick as lightning, he pulls his door open, the knife clutched in his right hand but safely hidden by the doorway. Using it would be messy for sure, but better be prepared.

  
But automatically his free hand comes to rub his face awkwardly, as he is half-convinced this apparition of Jyn Erso on his doorstep is only the result of sleep deprivation — it wouldn't be the first time he sees her in vivid detail, Rogue One messed him up, to say the least.

  
"Cassian, sorry I, I didn't mean to wake you up at all... it's just, I wanted to see where you lived, and Bodhi's not here to dissuade me and I'm probably still a bit drunk... I'll go now, good night."

  
The weight of all that happened before is swirling around them — the Force humming, Chirrut would have said — lingering like a third presence in the space between. After clearing his throat, he invites her to enter his stakeout, silently, but she seems oddly reluctant to enter, now that he caught her. There may be too much history between them to overcome, but she was right in saying they couldn't have avoided each other much longer, and no matter what, she can't stay in this corridor at three in the morning.

  
"Now that you're here and I'm awake, let's have a talk, Jyn," he murmurs distinctly, hoping to convince her.

  
"I'm not good at talking, not like you are."

  
"I know that, but somebody lurking could still be good at listening, even at this hour, so humor me."

  
She nods — FGH isn't quite safe, if at all, they both know that — and finally she crosses the threshold in a jerky manner. There's nothing much to look at inside, a microwave and a cooler, a percolator, a table and a chair, plus a mattress in an opposite corner. Everything is expendable, in case he needs to leave without notice, and Jyn's gaze is trained enough to get that at once.

  
"Trouble sleeping?” he asks when she doesn’t speak at all.

  
He hates small talk, and so does she, as mere _politeness_ had already earned him a slap earlier, but he has to start somewhere. She leaves him helpless, his defenses automatically stripped bare and he knows rebel tactics would not get far with her, anyway.

  
"I didn’t bother with going to bed in the first place, but I believe I’m no worse than you,” Jyn declares without preamble, her voice not quite as assured as he would have liked.

  
Her frankness shouldn’t surprise him, all the more because it’s the truth. But since he found himself fighting alone, he’s forgot what it was like to be instantly called out on his bullshit. Kay had been dreadfully efficient at that, of course, but it's not the same thing to have Jyn's entire attention focused on him like this, and he knows fight is impeding.

  
"It’s not reassuring then, I’m not a reference,” Cassian jokes weakly, considering her own puffy eyes and the slight scent of tequila on her breath. He has this kind of sleepless nights too often no to guess he's probably the cause of this one.

  
"You're wrong, you were a reference, Captain Andor, or are you a fraud now?”

  
Her voice is trembling, her hands shaking in anger — perhaps out of anxiety too — but she doesn't need to voice how much "she wants to throw something at his stupid cautious face". Her glare is more than eloquent enough, and he remembers her using these exact words while speaking to Baze in Copenhagen, a lifetime ago. The memory makes him smile, which of course hardens her expression even more, if possible. Jyn’s next outburst is unexpected though and he has a sudden difficulty to hear her over the dolorous heartbeat pulsing in his head:

  
"I don't know what to do with you reappearing like that. Saw, the Rooks, Eadu, Rogue One, all of it, Cassian! We were thrown in together by Fate, the Force or your damned Rebellion, it doesn't matter... it was too much, too fast, we were a comet that run its course, only to explode in the end!"

  
Cassian closes his eyes, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth, then deliberately exhales. He didn't know she was so keen on metaphors — the Jyn he knew wasn't verbose at all — but two could play that game, and he goes on further, his hands balling into fists to prevent him from either shaking her silly or hugging her until neither of them could breathe:

  
"And we — you, Bodhi and I — are fragments of that comet, I suppose? That's why you didn't stay after the Scarif Center, because the fragments couldn't fit anymore? Because we didn't revolve around the same orbit?"

  
He can think of fifty ways for her to respond to this: by a slap, a punch, a snort, an other tirade, a quip, a plea... She's unpredictable, always keeping him on his toes, answering blow for blow. That is the Jyn he knows, the woman who is the synthesis of Liana Hallik, Tanith Ponta, Kestrel Dawn, Lyra Rallik, and Nari McVee: the multifaceted fighter, as changing as the names she used.

  
Knowing all of that, nothing prepared him for watching her crumple with shocking suddenness. She covers her face with her hands, sobbing in the rough, unpracticed way of a girl who'd never learned how to cry, probably because, like him, her childhood didn't allow her the luxury of shedding tears. 

  
He just knows she's going to flee again, and he can't bear to watch it. So he turns stiffly his back to her, already waiting for the sounds of her fading footsteps and the door closing behind him. He shouldn't have kissed her, nor drawn her into his embrace earlier, now he has to pay for that. Dream Jyn and the real woman — estranged from him for more than four years — weren't meant to be treated the same way, but in his eagerness, in the spellbound state he'd found himself, just for seeing her again, he had forgotten this.

  
He keeps hearing her hiccups, though, and footsteps are getting closer, not fading away, before he feels her petite form collide against his back, her arms wrapping around his middle: she is hugging him, marvelously tangible.

  
"Jyn..."

  
Her frame is still shaking with sobs, but she stills at the plea-like quality of her name, and hears what he doesn't say: Jyn, don't go yet. Jyn, let me comfort you. It's disturbing to see how her mere presence suffices to put everything in the background of his thoughts, for the time being: that's never happened before, but at this exact moment, he doesn't give a damn about the cause he dedicated himself to during two decades and a half.

  
Palpatine and Vader could be within reach, with targets on their back and offering a gun to go with it, and he is not sure he'd be able spare them a glance. He will get back to Captain Andor as soon as she leaves — he didn't know he could put the Rebellion aside for even a minute — but now Cassian's hands come to cover hers, his grip hard and firm, if only to keep her in place.

  
Then, in a move reminiscent of his dancing days of old, he flips her around, so that finds himself behind her, their crossed arms still entwined on her stomach, encasing her against him. While he didn't have to think about it to change their position, its execution, that used to be so effortless once, leaves him short of breath now. The strain is throbbing in his weak leg, but he hides his wince in the crown of her head and finally relaxes when he hears her chuckle bubbling up despite her teary voice:

  
"Seriously? It's the only thing you thought of?"

  
"It's harder to run, now."

  
She stays silent a long while, easing slowly into his embrace and it feels so natural, holding her again, properly, that he's willing to dismiss his discomfort for as long as she'd let him. But finally, she sighs, her arms dangling at her sides, and she whispers:

  
"I didn't want to leave, maybe we didn't fit anymore, but you said... you welcomed me home, once, do you remember that?"

  
He did, it's one of the truest things he said to her, and the blinding smile he got from it is living in his memory, even now.

  
"Of course I do, I meant it."

  
"I know, but... it's complicated. You were in surgery and rehab for a long time after... after the end of Rogue One. Bodhi and I were discharged sooner, our injuries weren't as extensive —"

  
"I know that, Jyn," he cuts in, firmly but not unkindly, as her rambling makes him nervous. "Tell me, why did you go?"

  
"You thought I had a home with you, in the Rebellion, but Draven didn't agree. He said I was a liability to you, that he could care less about Bodhi, he called him damaged goods, if I recall. I had to protect him, Cassian. You had your cause, but Bodhi and I, our cause died with Galen, with Baze and Chirrut, we only had each other."

  
Bitter tears adds up to his fury — fucking Draven, meddling with his life! — and threaten to spill from beneath his eyelids. Bodhi and Jyn had largely proven they were more dedicated to the Rebellion than half its current ranks! They'd given their blood and sweat for it, lost their relatives and even their sanity, same as he. Everyone in the upper stratosphere of the Rebellion knew that, particularly its high command. Where exactly had been Mon Mothma when Draven had pressurized them like this? And what of General Raddus, who had rescued them from a certain death? Couldn't someone vouch for them?

  
"It's not true, you had me, both of you, if I'd known —"

  
"You wouldn't have left the Rebel Alliance, not for us. Even so, I'm not sure you'd have been permitted to ditch Draven. He raised you to do his bidding, right? Your loyalty is to the Rebellion and to him, you're his perfect little soldier."

  
The words hits him too close from home — pun intended — and he flinches forcefully, his spasming leg not helping matters. He can't dismiss the truth of her assessment, nor the resignation in her tone. He can only offer the truth in return, as weak as it may sound:

  
"I'm not a perfect soldier anymore, I'm broken. Not to mention, even before Rogue One, he already gave me orders that I disobeyed. For you, and Bodhi, but most of all after my own conscience, because it wasn't right, and I couldn't make myself do it."

  
"You didn't pull the trigger," she whispers, staring into space as she recalls their argument about Galen, after the Eadu platform fiasco.

  
"No, I didn't, and I'm sorry it changed nothing in the end, your father died and you left the Rebel Alliance."

  
He lets himself sink into the mattress, and she imitates him, sitting on her heels in front of him. Her eyes search something on his face. She comes a bit closer, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder — marvelously tangible again, and not the product of his imagination, for once — as she says:

  
"It's not true Cassian, in the end, it made all the difference. You're not perfect but you're not broken either. You're still here, and even when I left you I'd known you would be all right, that you'd carry on fighting for the Rebellion, for a world completely freed of the Empire. And I was glad for it."

  
"Well, I wasn't Jyn," he sighs roughly, unable to add anything for fear of losing his semblance of composure. "But apparently I'm not the only one still messing with the Empire, am I? How in hell did you end up in FGH, next to Vader's kids and General Kenobi?"

  
The abrupt change of topic throws her out of the loop for a grand total of three seconds, before she rolls her eyes, and huffs:

  
"Never trust Han Solo."

  
.

  
.

 

.

All in good time

Although most of the time

It’s just hard working

The same piece of clay

Day after day

Year after year

Certain melodies tear your heart apart

Reconstruction is a lonesome art  
But I love to watch you walk across my doorway

I cannot be held accountable for the things I do or say


	9. Han — Somewhere They Can't Find me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Han Solo's turn to speak. Jyn gets busted, Leia wants to be involved and he tries to stay under the radar...
> 
> Enjoy, and leave a not (I don't care how long) if you feel you have something to say.

But I’ve got to creep down the alleyway   
Fly down the highway   
Before they come to catch me I’ll be gone   
Somewhere they can’t find me   
  
Oh oh baby you don’t know what I’ve done   
I’ve committed a crime I’ve broken the law   
While you were here sleeping just dreaming of me   
I held up and robbed a liquor store   
  
.   
  
  
.   
  
  
  
.   


  
Han Solo is what you would call a resilient man, a smuggler, a scoundrel, you name the shady business and he'd be involved at some point. He's quite proud of it, if not boastful, because as cheeky he can be, he doesn't want the Empire to have his hide, thank you very much!

  
It'd be easier if he didn't crash at Far Galaxy Housing (or Empire Land, more accurately) but life's funny like that. The neighbors are quite friendly, if nothing else, he reflects ruefully while staring at his cooling cup of coffee. Everyone likes having the rest of the clique close by. No matter how precarious staying at FGH can be, it's obvious that being under a single roof brings comfort to everyone.

  
If he'd known the Empire would have caught up with him like this after he got freed of one of their aviation schools at twenty-three, he would have been smarter. 

  
When he took Kenobi's offer a few months ago, he didn't think about the soldier who'd been renowned as "the Negotiator", back when TV offered coverage on the war, when he was a child. Chewie was already kinda mute then, as he'd lost his voice during the conflict that had crowned Kenobi and Skywalker as the perfect team, the heroes of an entire nation, but he’d never evoked him. Three years after that, the not-so-secret criminal organization of the Empire had taken more or less control of the world and Skywalker had become Vader while Kenobi hid in a desert with his best friend's baby boy. Not that he had any business with that lot, at the time…

  
Anyway, he'd seen an old man and a blond teen seeking discreet transportation from California to Washington. Chewie was game, as always, while Bodhi was still recovering from whatever had happened to he and Jyn.

  
He’s no stranger to messy deals, but what happened between Luke, Leia Organa — who turned out to be no less than bloody Vader's "I'm the second most powerful man in the Empire ruled world" kids — hits the jackpot so far. He didn't mind bunking in with Erso and Rook afterwards, as a perk of sticking his nose in Empire's business.

  
He doesn’t precisely know what happened between their first meeting in the pub until Jyn’s call at four in the morning two years or so later. He doesn't pry, because they never asked about what he's doing either, but it's obvious she and Bodhi have had gone to Hell and back by that time. It wouldn't have been right to leave them fend for themselves, and Chewie would have decked him if he tried to wash his hands out of them Calrissian style.   
  


As he said, life is funny like that.

  
Speaking of which, he suddenly hears Jyn's key turning in the lock. As usual, she gets in swiftly, basic thievery moves apparent, but pauses as she comes into his view. With shoes in her hand and tangled hair, she's like the poster girl for the walk of shame, and he struggles to hide his smile into his cup.

  
“You should be asleep,” she says into the silence, with a voice still thickened by sleep but no embarrassment.

  
"Funny you're bringing that, Erso. Tell me, where did you sleep last night, and the two nights before that?"

  
"Why do you care Solo?"

  
"It's oddly peaceful in here, but you look rested for once, so excuse me for wondering. Rook was asking about your sleeping habits the last time I had him on the phone."

  
"You're joking, right? He asked you to keep tabs on me?" she seethes, green eyes turning all viper-like with indignation.

  
"Can you blame him, after what you pulled off before he left? You're not fine. He worries. What else is new? And since you can't bother with updating him yourself, I have to do it, since Chewie is not a great conversationalist, obviously."

  
"Fuck you."

  
"I'm flattered, but no, I'd settle for an answer," he retorts with a smirk, knowing he is the only one able to goad her successfully.

  
"I don't have to tell you shit, if you wanna play daddy, better ask princess Organa."

  
Okay, now he's pissed, because while he knows how to push her buttons, so does she, and bringing Leia into this is a low blow. He grits his teeth and tries to remember why he's supposed to care about such a whacked up bitch. All he can come up with is said princess, maddeningly defiant as she declared "I like good men", and he knows he's screwed.

  
He likes a woman with a healthy dose of spunk, maybe it's why Erso is usually his favorite buddy and it's certainly the reason Leia attracts him on every other levels. It keeps things interesting, most of the time. But on principle alone, he refuses to back down, because he can't give Jyn the satisfaction — he's not as obliging as Rook nor as indulging as Chewie — so he comes to stand in the way to her room and insists:

  
"Where did you come from?"

  
"Elsewhere."

  
"Who were you with?"

  
"Force, leave me alone, you don't know him anyway!"

  
"So it's a he... okay, here goes the rumor of you batting for the other team, who are you sleeping with, then?"

  
"Wait, what? What rumors?"

  
"Lando started it, as you punched him when he tried to make a move on you, plus you've never brought a man here to do the nasty."

  
"Calrissian had already kissed Bodhi! And I'm not interested in a quick fuck anyway."

  
"He likes to keep his choices open, that's all, it'd do you good, you know? You'd rest better afterwards I'm sure, we all would."

  
"You're a bastard, and so is he!"

  
"Maybe, the fact is you're feeling better somehow and I want to know whose name I have to put on the thank you card."

  
"Tough luck then."

  
"Personally," comes Leia Organa's amused voice behind them, making the both of them jump out of their skin, "my bet is on Joreth Sward, or Cassian Andor, or whatever name you know him under."

  
The Senator — her long chocolate brown hair let enticingly loose, for once — must have snuck out on them while they were arguing. Han does his best to avoid gawking, but she is quite a vision, this morning, as if the mere evocation of her name has summoned her. Unfortunately, Jyn is not so partial to the beauty of their neighbor — definitely straight as an arrow then — and she glares at the newcomer, while he says :

  
"I think you can’t stand to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight, these days."

  
"I don't know where you get your delusions, laser brain, but I was feeling lonely without Luke and Chewie invited me for breakfast."

  
"Then, you'd have thought you'd find something more interesting to do than bitching about me and Cassian... I'll leave you to it. To quote you, Solo, it'd do you good, you know? You'll feel better afterwards I'm sure, we all would."

  
That little tart has even the gall to smirk triumphantly as Leia and him choke on their fury and he fantasizes about throttling her and hiding her body — Leia is political after all, this might come in handy — before the name he heard finally registers:

  
Cassian. Cassian Andor. He had never met the man in the flesh, but in the first weeks they took Erso back, four years ago, she used to cry out his name more than any other during her nightly rampages, and to this day, Bodhi sometimes mentions him, too. To the best of his knowledge, the guy was dead (Erso certainly behaved like he'd met an awful death and she wasn't able to cope with his loss.) but if Leia heard about the bloke and Jyn were currently sleeping with him, in whichever sense of the word... well, it changes things.

  
"Cassian Andor, Jyn, why'd that name sounds familiar?"

  
The British is far from smug now, and Leia herself seems intrigued by the turn of the conversation, the earlier barb forgotten. But Erso refuses to answer, stubbornly ignoring his question once again, and it's the Senator who concurs:

  
"From what I gathered, Cassian Andor is a rebel spy who tried and spectacularly failed to recruit Luke for the Alliance."

  
"He's not a mere spy, _your highness_ ," Jyn sneers with barely contained rage, "Captain Andor is an military officer, and a good asset for Rebel Intelligence, and if I hear you speaking about him with contempt again, Solo won't be enough to protect you."

  
"I'd thank you for not threatening me, Erso, you'd find I would not require Han's help to put you in your rightful place. Besides, I meant no disrespect to Captain Andor, I just exposed the facts as I knew them."

  
"I'm not afraid of you and the last person who tried vainly to put me in my ‘rightful place’ was either an Imperial madman or an insufferable General of the Rebellion — the two were oddly similar as far as I'm concerned. You're not the only one who have ties to both sides of the spectrum, Senator."

  
Well, that's new. Surprise makes his eyebrows shoot up and even the quick-witted woman beside them is left speechless, not expecting this either. But Han can't afford to focus on details, his own situation makes him ask:

  
"You deal with the Rebellion, here? Are you mad? Don't you know where you are? You want to blow our cover kid?"

  
"No, I already took whatever revenge I could from the Empire and I'm not messing with the Alliance anymore, just —"

  
"Messing around one of their intelligence officers while Bodhi isn't here to stand guard?"   
  


"I won't have this discussion in front of a stranger, Solo, but it's not anyone's business except mine, I'm a grown woman," Jyn concludes, fuming and finally going past him to slam her bedroom door. 

  
"Kriff, I'll be damned... Erso is as stuck as you are with the Rebellion versus Empire thing. I have a bad feeling about this, I should keep a low profile, but if my own flat mate is a rebel, might as well wear a flashing sign telling to arrest me."

  
"Wait a minute, here," Leia interrupts, frowning, as concern softens her gaze, "you know why I've been told not champion some of you? Have you done something to anger Tarkin —"

  
"No, not Tarkin specifically. I ain’t in this for your revolution, I have my own problems to deal with, for example there's just a little bit of money I owe someone."

  
"Who?"

  
"It's nothing for you to worry about, princess."

  
"Don't pull that chivalrous crap on me Han, who are you indebted to?"

  
"Jabba. It wouldn't surprise me if one day the Empire comes to knock on the door and bring me to him."

  
Both likely know what it means — Jabba's influence is notorious in criminal sphere of the southern states, particularly near the Mojave desert where Luke had grown up — and Leia sighs, moving to reach for his hand but stopping herself in time:

  
"What will you do then? I don't have any money you could borrow, I'm guessing Miss Erso barely makes enough to pay her share — and the same goes with Mr. Rook, plus that Dagobah Center camp doesn't come cheap, I know."

  
"I'll manage, princess, don't worry," he reassures softly, taking the hand she refused to give him — she lets him grab it and stroke her knuckles. "I'm gonna make myself scarce and hide a bit in Lando's hotel while I get the money."

  
"I... I wish you didn't have to go, Luke will be sorry to have missed you."

  
She's talking about her brother, but he knows they are basically the same soul in two bodies, and her brown eyes seem almost vulnerable, almost tender. For all her drive and precocity, she's barely twenty, this woman who infuriates and captivates him all at once, and he reaches downward to put a reassuring kiss on her forehead.   


 

  
  
.   
  
  
.   
  
  
  
.   
  
Oh my life seems unreal my crime an illusion   
A scene badly written in which I must play   
And though it puts me up tight to leave you   
I know it’s not right to leave you,   
When morning is just a few hours away


	10. Luke — Hurricane Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia is in trouble, so while Luke was settling in Dagobah Center, he'll be gonna rescue her, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE if you're still reading, leave me a word, even if it's to say it's boring. Action happens but it's extremely discouraging to get only one feedback for a chapter.
> 
> Anyway enjoy your read.

_Oh, what are we going to do?_

_I never did a thing to you_

_Time peaceful as a hurricane eye_

_Peaceful as a hurricane eye_

_._

_._

_._

 

Now Luke Skywalker knows why Ben — General Kenobi — had wanted to send him to the Dagobah center; it wasn't meant to be some weird kind of boot camp like he'd previously thought.

They were trying to groom him into a soldier, a freedom fighter like his father before him.

If Bodhi Rook is steadfastly turning into some kind of a mystic guide by the likes of Yoda — thankfully with a better grasp of basic English grammar — it seems like Luke finds himself following the footsteps of Ben, like his father used to before he'd been corrupted by Palpatine. He doesn't mind, though, even if the means they used to bring him there seem a tad out of the blue.

He is not sure he's up to the task of raising against the Empire yet, but he doesn't mind ironing his skills for the time being. He hopes to help with the way Leia has already taken up the mantle from Bail Organa: it's high time Luke tries to incarnate the "new hope" Ben said he could become.

His days as a peaceful mechanic do seem far, now. About the time Owen and Beru passed away, he had just gotten his first real job in a garage called Mos Espa, not far from the farm, as he inherited his knack for repairing from his father, apparently. Owen had always tried to shield him from the Empire in his own gruff way, hampering and complaining when the traits Luke developed came too close from those of his half-brother.

For the longest time, his uncle wanted to make a farmer out of him, but as Luke's name has always been Skywalker, his aspirations were Anakin's. Finally, they came to a compromise, Owen wouldn't pester Luke about farming if Luke didn't try to enlist, or go to an aviation school, so pursuing a mechanic training course had been the only logical choice left. Unlike Leia, Luke wasn't much of a scholar, his guardians certainly didn't have the same income or connections and that was a career which was useful and could be respected by the community.

He had liked that life, for a time, even while he felt out of place in California, separated from his sister. After he had lost his ties to Tatooine, he'd been glad to maintain a semblance of normalcy in dirtying his hands with grease. Luke won't deny that, but be as it may, he feels like he has a purpose here, that he finally can make a difference, with proper support and preparation.

It's obviously why both Ben and Yoda are currently so tough on him — offering private training sessions for Force' sake! — while the fourteen other volunteers follow the classic course together, with a few alterations here and there, based on specific needs and personal interest.

Luke had no such regard, as he neither needed nor chose to go to the Dagobah Center in the first place, unlike Bodhi Rook, or Ezra Bridger. However, he managed to sneak his own phone in, hidden under the mattress, and not only Ben didn't try to take it back, but he goes as far as to wonder about Leia's day in passing and wishing her goodnight every evening.

He asked for the room across from Bodhi's too, as a favor, and everyone said both the neighbors were a little too happy with keeping the same configuration as in FGH. Ben, ignoring Yoda's grumbles about alphabetical attribution of rooms, had granted his wish with little comment, but his silver eyebrows twitched and Luke is sure that all the times he and Bodhi are assigned together since then are no will of the Force, but bear the sign of Benjamin Gordon Alec Kenobi, who apparently likes to play matchmaker in his — pretty seldom — spare time.

Despite his bothersome "emotional attachments" — Yoda's quite a dramatic chap, if you ask him — the Californian is used to make the most of what he is confronted with by now, and he's proud to be the head of the training program. It doesn't make Yoda's teaching easier to follow, though, and the familiar twinkle of mirth in Ben's blue-grey eyes isn't helping at all. Crazy old men, the both of them!

"Master Yoda, I'm sorry to interrupt your lesson, but Miss Skywalker keeps trying to reach her brother. She seems really insistent."

In his twenty years of life, Luke had never heard Leia be outwardly referred to as a Skywalker. Even Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, who had called her their niece proudly, have been mindful of always using her adopted name. A chill goes down his spine, then, some sort of gloomy foreknowledge, and he didn't even wait for Yoda's permission to grab the receiver.

"Hello, Leia?"

"Luke, I'm sorry, I didn't know how to get hold on you otherwise," his sister rushes out, sobs making her words hard to get.

"Don't you worry about that. What's going on, why in the Force are you crying?"

"They'll take Han, Luke, imperials lackeys are bringing him to Jabba, near Tatooine. Lando Calrissian has just ratted him out, and... I fear Vader's coming."

"What?!"

He is yelling — the eyes of his two instructors are burning holes into his neck now — but Luke doesn't give a flying... Well, Leia kriffing Organa is crying for Force' sake, she needs him and if he has to thumb a ride until he gets back to her, shielding her from Father or the Emperor himself, he will. He'll stand besides his sister, he'll save his friend.

"Leia, listen, can you wait for me until I come home?" he asks instantly on the phone, ignoring the disapproving huff of Yoda behind him.

"N—no, there's no need, I just needed to get it out of my head, but I doubt Vader will come to here just to retrieve Han, anyway, I'm being overdramatic, I'm all right now."

"The hell you are, Leia Amidala Organa!"

"You're busy, you need to do your thing at the center."

"Screw that."

"Don't be stupid, I'm a big girl and I'm not alone, there's Chewie, and Erso, and even a Rebel contact in the building."

"But none of them are me, though, whether or not Father decides to get involved with Jabba again, don't you think I deserve to be here for you, and for Han?"

The silence that fills the line is all the answer Luke needs.

"I'm on my way, little sis, hang on."

Obviously, Yoda is not happy about his decision, and seems to think that ‘the Negotiator’ Kenobi joining him on his rants about dropping out of a long term training due to "personal hindrances" would be enough to sway him. Luke wants to scoff at their self-righteousness, but he knows he had let himself be kept on a tight leash, so far, so it's no wonder they are surprised to see him champ at the bit now.

Normally, he'd at least make an effort to listen to Ben — surrogate uncle status notwithstanding, he feels like he owes him the courtesy, after all they've been through together. But this time, the old man doesn't understand that no matter how important his own sense of duty may be, Luke puts family and friends — and with all the more reason, Leia's safety and happiness — above everything else.

She and him are basically the same person and he refuses to abandon Han into Jabba's clutches anyway, the long term training be damned! He didn't even asked to be trained! Sure, he'd felt a bit idle from time to time, but finding your footing is hard when the other part of yourself is a workaholic, no? Leia needs him to ground her, and that is what he'll do: he'll come to her, whether it disrupts Yoda's plans or not.

Kenobi, far more in tune with the inner dynamic of the Skywalker twins, doesn't try to reason Luke anymore, and the young man's resolution is met with his mentor's resignation. Besides, he too worries about his sister and even Han perhaps (for all his aged appearance, his hearing is as keen as ever, and Luke is sure the former general got the gist of the phone conversation). Eventually, when all tries to find a compromise fail, he sighs and pulls out a bunch of cash from a battered wallet. As usual, Luke tries not to take a peek at the photo of a ten year old Anakin — almost a spitting image of him as a boy — and a twenty-six year old Benjamin, strawberry blonde hair cropped short but much more colorful than the twins ever got to see.

He has a spat with Bodhi Rook before leaving, just because he's too riled by the situation to keep calm, so sue him. Believing in the Force doesn't mean that he's not prone to occasional bursts of pettiness. The tears brimming in the man's big ebony eyes pull on his heartstrings though and when his neighbor pulls out his hand for him to shake, Luke pats his back reassuringly. If he weren't so kriffing shy, he'd have gone for something more — even settling for a mere hug, if nothing else — but time is pressing. So Bodhi sends his good wishes, says he'd keep all of them in his prayers, and their matching blushes remain unaddressed yet again.

He manages to catch a last minute plane from New Orleans to Seattle, spending the five hours of flight brooding and trying not to let his imagination running wild too much. He knows what Jabba and cronies are capable of, of course, but it's the shadow of the Empire that worries Luke the most.

Reality strikes him in the face when Leia launches herself at him as soon as he sets foot on the tarmac, squeezing the very air out of his lungs. Despite all the people around, he feels her tears slowly dampening his tee-shirt, with Chewie looking grim-faced beside them. Jyn Erso is nowhere in sight, but he didn't expect her to tag along, as they are merely cordial acquaintances, most days.

He doesn't quite know where to start yet, but as his sister and he are squeezed together amongst unsuspecting people, Luke knows he's where he's meant to be. If Imperials have Han and meant to send him to Jabba, he has to go back to California, and even find their father if he's not enough to sway Jabba. He'll save Han, no matter what it takes.

_._

_._

_._

_You want to talk, talk, talk about it_

_All night squawk about_

_The ocean and the atmosphere_

_Well, I’ve been away for a long time_

_And it looks like a mess around here_

_And I’ll be away for a long time_

_So here’s how the story goes_


	11. Bodhi — Wartime Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Luke takes action, Bodhi choses not to.
> 
> Please leave me a few words.

Prayers offered in times of peace  
Are silent conversations  
Appeals for love, or love’s release  
In private invocations  
But all that is changed now  
Gone like a memory from the day before the fires  
People hungry for the voice of God  
Hear lunatics and liars

.

 

.

 

.

Bodhi is positively blossoming, in the confines of the Dagobah Center. Its programs consist in a large part of physical training, with a dash of rehabilitation, counseling and more surprisingly, regular religious classes derived directly from the Church of the Force.

  
He hears the ghost of Chirrut's voice in the prayers Master Yoda intones each week, he hears Baze's begrudging advice in Ben's training drills. He sees a benevolent aunt in the kind face of his counselor, sometimes, she even reminds him of his mother, who died from a car crash when he was twelve or so.

  
Most of all, Bodhi feels at home, safe in a foreign place in swampy Louisiana, as the familiar rhythm in there brings him back into the Jedhan temple in London, the beloved place that sheltered his innocence, his identity and his hopes for so long, before he deflected. He would weep with joy if the effort of bringing himself back together weren't so exhausting.

  
He misses Jyn, his worrying about her the only fly in the ointment. He doesn't hear about his friends very often — no mobile phone or internet access allowed — but he had known Chewie and Han would keep an eye out for her while he's gone finding his path. Still, her silence does nothing to placate him, for he knows she's bound to meet Cassian one day soon, if she hasn't already.

  
Even in battles, they had always revolved around each other. There are huge holes in his memory, never to be patched up, but he remembers how the both of them instantly sought the other, how they were always standing very close, often touching casually. Fleeing away from the Mexican has been difficult for Bodhi but it was nothing compared to the utter devastation on Jyn's face when she asked for Han to pick them up when they got cleared of the hospital, after Scarif.

  
He doesn't like to remember that at all, but he feels grounded enough in the Dagobah center to attempt it. The point is, he's sure Cassian will not stay away from Jyn much longer, and neither will she:

  
While Cassian's eagerness at hearing about her at once has been plain enough, Jyn had spent entire nights calling out then whispering Cassian's name, over and over. Of course, Galen and Lyra and Saw Gerrera and Baze and Chirrut — even Kay — had also come up regularly, but nothing quite matched the raw anguish that Jyn could put into the Captain's name.

  
He hopes they will eventually find their way back to each other, because had Draven not taken a dislike to the two English — but who could blame him, after the Rogue One slaughter? — they'd never have parted, he's certain of that.

  
If the Rebel Alliance teared Jyn from Cassian, it seemed the Empire was resolved to take Han Solo away this time, and Luke, like Bodhi once upon a time, is stuck in a crossfire. When he heard what happened to Han — he knew Lando was bad news! — he started to shake, having a bit of a turn and someone on the mats nearby made him sit and brought him a glass of water. Only whereas the Englishman had cracked under the pressure, once again, Skywalker appeared to be unmovable, unstoppable.

  
"I don't care if I'm reckless, I have to do something, I have to be here for the people I care about."

  
That's how he had concluded his argument with Master Yoda and Ben, loud enough to be heard inside the gymnasium, before storming out altogether. Bodhi has never heard his neighbor rise his voice before, and the sound of it, while surprising, brought immediately Senator Organa to mind, making his insides lurch. A few minutes later Bodhi watched Luke throwing out clothes hazardously in his suitcase, and he tried to keep his hands and voice steady, asking:

  
“Why can’t you let things happen?” All is as the Force wills it, added serenely Chirrut in a corner of his memory, helping to keep his panic at bay.

  
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," the blond man retorted in a steely voice, which seemed out of character for such a happy-go-lucky guy, all the more because he knew how unfair the comment was, with Jyn and the glimpses he had learned about his deceased family since they had arrived.

  
Despite that, guilt flooded Bodhi, because as much as he would like to know more about Han, to find a way to help, he had no intention to leave the Dagobah center at present. If Jyn wanted him back in FGH too, she'd have called him, by then. She doesn't need him, really, not with Cassian in the vicinity, and Force knows that in a rescue mission from the Empire, he'd be the last person to offer his services, he'd more likely be a burden: been there, done that, or so the saying goes.

  
You've got to listen to me, I'm like you, I'm on your side, echoed desperately his own voice in his inner ear, making him shudder at the memory of the shabby dusty basement under the Partisans bar, in London, where Saw chose to torture him up to the brink of madness, refusing to take his word without a few devastating incentives.

  
So, without even offering to share a ride back to Far Galaxy Housing where his sister likely awaited, Luke has left him alone with the other volunteers. It's better this way. If anything, he can pray for Han's safety, not to mention for Luke's success, since he seems wholesome enough to go on a crusade for the sake of his friends. Call him selfish or weak, but Bodhi cannot muster the same amount of courage anymore. The Empire — and even the Rebellion, at an extent — robbed him of all his bravery, if he ever got any. The only thing he can do is keeping faith while others are putting themselves in danger.

  
"Mister Rook, shame it is not to put your trust in the Force."

  
The tiny man which goes by the name of Yoda — really a retired former military chaplain — is rumored to be one of the most efficient fighter around. He has taught generations of people (civilians or military alike) in combat, but most of all in the ways of the Force. Bodhi doesn't know why he chose to take up residence in the bayou, like this, but it's clear the remoteness is not the only reason why the place is so peculiar.

  
"I'm feeling like I should do more, Master," he mumbles, trying not to bow his head because Ben forbid him to.

  
"Hmmm... The Force will be the judge of that. Not you, not I, and not young Skywalker."

  
The irritation of the head instructor is obvious, but somehow it amuses Bodhi so he doesn't resist the impulse to answer him in a measured tone, his lips turning upwards at the end:

"We are only tools of the Force, and must do our best in accordance with its will and our right conscience, for we are all its children, even Luke, Master."

  
He doesn't know if Yoda is proud of his words or even more irritated, but he hears several snorts around and considers this a victory.

  
"I fear that there's too much of his father in him."

  
"Will all due respect Master Yoda, your worry is unwarranted, besides, fear leads to anger which leads to suffering. Don't make yourself suffer needlessly, I try not to, with help from the Force."

  
The words have come easily to Bodhi, an echo of his former talkative self, and it's only when he hears General Kenobi chuckle outwardly while everyone else is speechless — Yoda included! — that he realizes he has just snubbed the most knowledgeable man around and before witnesses too!

  
He doesn't know if he wants the ground to swallow him whole or be borne in triumph altogether, but Ben, not as subdued as he'd been since Luke's desertion, comes to talk to him personally after his boxing session, wrinkled eyes still shining in good humor:

  
"Rook, you know active fighting is not the only way to win a conflict, I know better than most that a good use of wits — and Force teachings — can be the more efficient tactic against an opponent. I believe few of us are bold enough to turn the tables on Yoda using his favorite field."

  
"I didn't mean to, really, I'm not... I'm not a sharp one. Jyn is."

  
"Miss Erso is certainly that and more, I reckon, but don't sell yourself short. You have what it takes to make a difference, I feel it, and I'm not the only one."

  
Kenobi is not exactly forthcoming with compliments, to say the least, so hearing this firm encouragement means everything to Bodhi and he sends him a blinding smile, hoping to convey his gratitude for being so supported and valued. With a parting nod, the older man hands him an envelope while Bodhi reaches his room with a light heart.

  
Of course he had noticed Luke had a thing for photos before — always asking about them, when he feels allowed to pry, or catching them in a corner of his eyes when not. However, Bodhi didn't know his interest includes not only pictures in general (of the personal kind, it seems) but photography. But it's obvious, glancing at the photos inside the envelope addressed to him with Luke's handwriting. He's not as good of a photographer as he is a mechanic, but he's got talent and it shows in the photos he took of Bodhi himself.

  
Then again, Luke's sky blue eyes are shy but discerning, at the antipodes of his, really. He can't phantom anyone would describe his bulging black eyes with any other word but spasmodic, but somehow, maybe because the snapshots are by definition still, his gaze seems steady for once. He seems, normal, peaceful, almost nice looking, even.

  
Judging from their parting words, Bodhi believed Luke was the one that wouldn't understand him. Until then, he believed that his crush was hopeless, of that much he's been certain. But seeing himself through Skywalker's camera, through his eyes... like a secret well kept until it could be revealed... his heart is hammering harder than ever.

  
He wants to be the man in the photo, he wants to see that every night in the bathroom mirror.

  
Ben Kenobi, when distinguishing Luke as head of the instruction last month, had called him a "hope-bringer". It struck Bodhi and a few other folks as weird at the time — Yoda is usually the one spouting poetic nonsense — but now he gets it: Luke isn't just a sunny person, he's a blazing flame enlightening the world he lives in, and graces people he knows with his mere presence, when his sister is driven by an even more aggressive fire.

  
Bodhi can only fan that fire with the strength of his faith, and then get marveled at the sight of it. So, after putting a photo of him smiling crossed legged besides Yoda on his bedside table — how did Luke manage to take this without anyone noticing ? — he opens the drawer.

  
From there he pulls out his copy of the Journal of the Whills, which he inherited from Chirrut upon his death. The little book, containing all the main prayers of the Church of the Force, is partly transcribed into Braille so the blind man could use it, but it also was annotated by personal musings and avenues of reflection (likely written down by Baze). It has been the monk's most prized possession since the Jedhan temple got destroyed, and now, five years on, it's Bodhi's time to cherish the opportunity to keep the belief in the Force alive:

  
"First comes the day  
Then comes the night.  
After the darkness  
Shines through the light.  
The difference, they say,  
Is only made right  
By the resolving of gray  
Through refined Jedi sight."

  
Through his regular chanting, Bodhi feels as if the words were popping out of the page, that it was written for him, referring to Han and were speaking about Luke — Luke, who by this very definition, is already a very fine Jedi.

.

 

.

 

.

 

Times are hard, it’s a hard time  
But everybody knows  
All about hard times, the thing is  
What are you gonna do?  
Well, you cry and try to muscle through  
And try to rearrange your stuff  
But when the wounds are deep enough  
And it’s all that we can bear  
We wrap ourselves in prayer 


	12. Jyn — Something So Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han is taken away by the Empire, and Jyn seeks support from our favorite Captain. RebelCaptain stuff ahead!
> 
> Enjoy!

__ You’ve got the cool water   
When the fever runs high   
You’ve got the look of lovelight   
In your eyes   
And I was in crazy motion   
‘Til you calmed me down   
It took a little time   
But you calmed me down   
  
.   
  
.   
  
.   
  


Jyn managed to stay relatively calm throughout the whole ordeal, which is more than can be said for Chewie and Leia Organa. Despite his immediate and sincere looking repentance, she still bruised her knuckles by turning Calrissian's face black and blue, out of spite, and she doesn't regret it one bit.

She enters, slightly out of breath, and hears the shower going. She sits on the mattress while he finishes his business — he added a pillow for her right away — but her eyes catch a hair she'd left on his. They sleep so entangled that they don't have sides. They don't do anything more than sleep and fool around a bit for now: their embrace is at once too tight and too natural to be entirely innocent — his lips often ending between her shoulder blades, when she's not nuzzling the hollow of his collarbone — but as soon as they wake up, they act like nothing out of ordinary happened and both go on their separate lives.   


But the bottom line of their sleeping arrangement is that ultimately it's what she needs, what he offers her so unreservedly, this closeness of just lying side by side on his mattress on the floor, and they would be foolish to refuse the simple comfort of bed sharing, for lack of a better word. Five to seven hours of unaltered sleep is a luxury they had to forgo long enough to not complicate things when it's avoidable. He's still staying at FGH for whatever reason, which Jyn doesn't care to know about, except for the fact that it makes him reachable.   


They still fear getting caught by whatever power that be, though, so of course they take great pain to see one another on the sly, Jyn coming to his bed to sleep — somewhat platonically — in the dead of the night.   


It's the first time she comes here in broad daylight, so she doesn't begrudge Cassian his stupefaction at the sight of her, her name caught in his throat. He's only wearing a towel, his hair is wet, droplets glistening on his skin, but as tantalizing as he may be — and Jyn despite her anguish, does register the sight for future reference — it's the amount of healed scars that holds her attention: from his mid-torso down to his right calf, and for all of those it's probably nothing compared to the ghastly damage done to his spine.   


She had never seen him so unclothed before, and now, with her already strained nerves, seeing the consequences of the Scarif Research Center still glaringly obvious on his mangled skin, threatens to overwhelm her. So, in typical ex-Partisan's fashion, she chooses to rip the plaster at once before she comes sobbing into his embrace like Leia Organa did with Chewie earlier:   


"Cassian, I need your help, the Empire took Han. I know you've got ties to the Alliance still. It should prove useful, considering Vader’s kids will likely want to get involved. I’m not sure if I should take part in that — I don’t want to involve Bodhi unless he chooses to follow Skywalker — but you're the only person I wanted to see."   


The flood and detached way in which the words have just slipped out of her mouth stunned the spy into silence for a few seconds, but saying it aloud doesn't make it more real here than in the Cloud City Hotel.   


But after two blinks, his intelligence skills kick in, and he is already vibrating in anticipation when he encloses her into a familiar embrace — without giving her a chance of babbling further. The tense woman breathes in gratefully the warm and known scent of his skin, and tears are finally gathering in her tired eyes. Jyn Erso blinks them away before Cassian has a chance to see them, though. She'd gotten quite good at that since her time with Saw Gerrera: never waste your time on tears, child, it's useless and could always be used against you, he used to say.   


"I'll help you Jyn, of course I will," he declares against her hair, like she hoped he would, and she can't help but feel relieved at the firmness of his tone. 

Cassian is still half-naked and somewhat wet though, and amidst comfort and gratitude, the awkwardness of their position soon catches up with them. He's slightly trembling against her, maybe from the cold or from his unmoving leg, but so is she, as adrenaline rush can only do so much.    


Not going back to the bathroom to change, he puts on random clothes directly from his bag, while she keeps her eyes stubbornly on a bare wall. Jyn doesn’t know if it’s because all idea of privacy and personal space have been long overrated, or because he knew she couldn’t bear to be left to her own devices without needing to be told — knowing him, knowing them, both hypothesis could be true.    


Then, not bothering with trying to eat something beforehand, they slowly stumble towards the mattress, hugging each other until all the shakes stop. Eventually, they end up falling asleep in the darkening room, thinking explanations and plans could wait until morning.   


But of course, it was asking for a meltdown of epic proportion and mere hours later, Jyn is screaming herself hoarse and trashing after a bad dream prompted by Han’s abduction. Only instead of the faceless headhunter, it was Orson Krennic who took Han away, who shot Chewie in the process, and shot Bodhi too, and finally shot  _ Cassian _ —   


"Jyn, it’s okay, I’m here with you. Let it go, that’s it… shhh."   


For a few seconds, she is so disoriented and terrified of the nightmarish visions still printed on her retina, that the voice doesn’t register. She squirms like an eel in the arms restraining her, then begins wriggling wildly, and considers biting, when nothing works.   


However, the other person is nothing if not persistent, and her desperate aggressiveness soon surrenders to the constant sweetness of his attention. He keeps muttering sweet nothings into her tangled hair — in English and Spanish alike but Jyn gets their meaning either way — and finally it’s the sound of his voice that brings her around, that soothes her nerves in less than two minutes.    


"Cassian," she exhales, groping up the arms attached to the wonderful hands trying to pull her body toward his, still, and it's so lovely, familiar, and safe, that tears of relief fall from her eyes before she can wipe them.   


Barely awake, she couldn't think of how it could be possible, but now that the frenzy is diminishing, she realizes it is exactly who she wanted, who she needed. She moves her head over Cassian’s chest until she can hear the thuds of his heart... then at last she begins to relax fully, the despair melting away, even the crutching relief winding down into contentment.   


"Thanks," she whispers, because her vocal chords can’t handle anything more than that. "I’m sorry, usually I cower in closets and sneaky places, when… I’m just waiting there for the tide — the panic —  to stop being so overwhelming, but —"    


"You're welcome. You've got nothing to apologize for, not to me, I’m as fucked up as you are, if not worse. But I don't mind nightmares anymore, as long as I can wake up to you."   


Her breath hitches at the raw honesty in his warm voice. He always does that, unexpectedly saying something sweet or inspiring as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it's just another thing to tell her about his day. Jyn tentatively smiles at him, pushing his bangs out of his eyes very slowly, and tries not to focus on the closeness of his lips.   


"Me too," she admits reluctantly.    


And though her face is probably red as a tomato, still, and soaked with tears and Force knows what else, Cassian makes the first move, molding his lips to hers in response, almost chastely.    


It's breaking the tacit rule they tried to stick to since they saw each other again, since the Scarif center, since the trip to Copenhagen after the Eadu platform... a hundred missed kisses for this one, while the both of them are perhaps about to embark on a personal crusade to make Imperial plans fail.    


But all but Cassian fade away, as she lays back fully on the mattress. This is the delightful end of more than six years of heartbreak, with too many missed chances, and nothing could stop the kisses from leading to more fulfilling activities, even if the theatre could be more neutral than an Imperial ruled real estate.   


The following morning, she doesn’t stay at the flat she is still supposed to share with Chewie and when they’re summoned to a remote place in Canada, due to Cassian's and Leia Organa's connections with the Rebel Alliance, they go together.     


Jyn has spent most of her life hiding from the Empire's ever growing influence, and she already lead a fierce battle against them. The mission against the weapon has been completed but she had lost Baze, Chirrut, Kay and even Cassian, if only for a time, in the aftermath. She refuses to add Galen and Lyra and Saw to the same list, as her allegiance to the Rebel cause and Rogue One wasn't already formed then, but she might as well, because Krennic and Tarkin are Imperials.    


But while the Skywalker twins seem appreciative of Captain Andor's input and feel determined to take action swiftly, Leia Organa acts as if Jyn's lack of involvement personally wrongs her. If the senator's glare is any indication, she seems to think imperative that she at least tries to right this situation along with them, like she could waltz back into the Rebel Alliance, and resume a place that was never hers to begin with.    


Well, even if it's to rescue Han Solo, the idea is ludicrous. Even in Draven's absence, she knows there are mistakes that don't get wiped clean just by coming back. She’s here for support, nothing more and tells as much to Mon Mothma, who seems genuinely glad, if surprised, to see her again.   


The former members of Rogue One can offer backup if necessary, but Vader's kids are the one calling the shots. Jyn, Cassian and Bodhi will gladly celebrate their success in retrieving the smuggler and leaving all the glory to them once it's done. Jyn's not so unfeeling — all to her newfound happiness with Cassian — as to overlook the same anguish they're still plagued with in the twins. Leia has told Han the words she doesn't plan to say to the Mexican ever even though she may have whispered a mí también when he said it in Spanish in the throws of passion, but it's as far as she's willing to go.

She hopes the princess-like senator will eventually receive the same declaration from Han, if not more, because neither deserves to be torn apart by the Empire, in fact, nobody does.

  
  
__.   
  
.   
  
.   
  
Some people never say the words   
“I love you”   
It’s not their style   
To be so bold   
Some people never say those words   
“I love you”   
But like a child they’re longing to be told   
  
  



	13. Leia — Dazzling Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia tries to face the reality of Han’s abduction and all is not always easy between the Skywalkers twins.

_Truth or lie, the silence is revealing_  
An empty sky, a hidden mound of stone  
But the CAT scan’s eye sees what the heart’s concealing  
Now-a-days, when everything is known  
Maybe love’s an accident, or destiny is true  
But you and I were born beneath a star of dazzling blue  
Dazzling blue

 

.

 

.

 

.

Why are they still living in here? Why did they come back to Seattle, to that damned futuristic white building that turned into her own personal Hell? Hiding in plain sight, Captain Andor had said while Mothma nodded sagely, not confronted with the reality of planning an action right under the Empire’s nose.

While Luke rolls their luggage quietly down the hall, Leia can’t bear to stay in the complex at all, reclaiming the impersonal flat across from Han’s once more, knowing he is thousands of miles away. She flees outside, cursing her idiocy and the treacherous tears that flow from her eyes, out of tiredness and aggravation.

It’s dreadfully cold for early September on top of that, but she just keeps running without destination, hurting from the cold and heartbreak, until her brother — when did he get so fast? — catches up with her and brings her slowly back to FGH, holding her hand all the way until they’ve reached the empty living room.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks."

They stand for a moment awkwardly, he studying her in concern while Leia looks anywhere but at him. The silence has never been this deafening between them. Usually, his chatty tendencies and her fiery temper make their interactions lively, not to mention with Ben’s off-hand comments in the background fueling the banter, but now only the soft ticking of a clock can be heard in the kitchen. Leia wants to throw something at it, smashing the thing until it stops ticking the seconds separating them from Han.

Instead she plops on the seventies brown battered couch, running a frustrated hand through her windswept hair and automatically starts complaining when Luke comes to sit beside her, taking back the hand that is curled into her lap:

"It’s gonna take a longer time than anyone is willing to admit, and I hate that."

"I don’t see why we can’t just put together the sum and simply go pay Jabba in Cali. I know the Empire is involved, but we already freed ourselves from it, before things could escalate. We could do that again."

"You are a fool if you think guts and mere luck will suffice against the Empire, Luke. In case you can't recall, the first time, we barely missed Palpatine and the prospect was frightening enough for Ben and Vader to put aside their mutual hatred."

"Ben and Father don't hate each other Leia, with all of your knowledge on the war, you should accept that much."

"It's no secret Kenobi and the man who impregnated our mother were lifelong friends, once. But the gleefulness Vader felt when stage-killing the old man wasn’t fake. The man is a psychopath."

"The diversion permitted us to escape."

" _Han_ permitted us to escape, and now Vader uses him as a bait, thanks to Jabba. There’s no end to his ruthlessness. He has already separated me from all the people I’ve ever loved, and now it’s you he’s after!"

"You can’t know that."

"But I do, Luke. It’s quite clever, actually, luring you back to California, to Jabba. He must think you're ready to join him, and he knows you’ll show up, eventually."

"I won’t, Leia. I didn’t when he first asked, and he probably knew I lived at Tatooine from the start, it’s where he was born, after all, so if he wanted to make me Imperial, he wouldn’t need Han."

"He is more likely to serve as leverage, in case you're not going to give him exactly what he wants."

How can Luke be so dense, so gullible still? He looks put off by their argument, but the curiosity is genuine enough when he asks:

"And what do you think it is?"

"You mean, apart from spreading suffering and death? He wants his son by his side, maybe he plans to overthrow Palpatine as head of the organization, I don’t know!"

"Now you’re not making any sense… besides, I’m not his only child."

"You’re the only Skywalker. I’m the daughter of Bail and Breha Organa and I’ve got nothing to do with that monster, I certainly don’t consider myself tied to him in anyway."

Her rejection shatters his relative serenity, and he flinches away from her as if she had burned him, had stabbed him right in the heart. Leia feels his pain like it was her own, but faces him with a raised chin, waiting for his response.

"At least, I'm here, aren’t I? Or don’t you ‘consider yourself tied to _me_ , in any way’?" he mimics perfectly, up to the British intonation which sounds blasphemous on his tongue.

The accusation is so sharp in the air and the bitterness so acute on his usually upturned lips that she feels like bursting into tears at the sight of it, but he adds, merciless, "Who is to be your knight in shining armor, then?"

"I thought it was you," Leia replies in a tinier voice than her own, feeling wounded by her brother’s snap and instantly regretting her careless wording.

His clear blue eyes defrost a bit at her obvious remorse, but he’s still hurt and it shows — betrayal washing out his usual tanned face down to a color matching her own skin tone. She has rarely seen him so upset, all the more because of her, and Leia’s guilt grows tenfold, having ruined his good mood because she couldn’t bear to see him reasonable, so like Ben Kenobi.

But while his similarities with their surrogate uncle accentuated since he left for Louisiana, it’s his physical likeliness that terrifies her; with his sky-blue gaze a shade cloudier, his paleness and his jaw set, she is dismayed to find a fleeting echo of Vader on his beloved face, all of sudden. She doesn’t know what Luke sees in her face, just then, but it’s dreadful enough for him to relax his features when he answers in a calmer way:

"You won’t let me. You told me before you don’t need rescuing."

"I don’t need a rescuer, I just need you to be my twin. Don’t be a hero."

Don’t you dare leave me too, she wants to scream desperately. She keeps her mouth shut though, hoping he’d still hear what she’s too proud to voice. She reaches for both her brother's hands, and marvels at how perfectly they fit against hers. Leia has never been more grateful for the contact of flesh; she clutches him with a terrified iron grip, while she remembers the last time she was close to someone else than her twin.

She had slammed her body into Han’s for a few seconds and threw her arms around his neck, because she couldn’t stop it, and had burst out ‘I love you’, like some say godspeed, as he was taken away from her.

She had felt the desperation creep into her tone, tears pricking behind her eyes, like she did years before while watching Alderaan — her parents' home in Washington — being destroyed by the Empire. Only this time, it was Han who was slipping from her, and Leia couldn't let him go like this too, not without telling him what was in her heart — something that still hunts her about her parents.

"I know," he calmly replied, like he'd always known it. Like he wanted to reassure her that it was okay for her to say it, that he'd take her declaration with him, that he was ready for her to acknowledge it.

It plays on repeat in her head, his answer, so much powerful than the usual I love you too, so Han, that drives her insane.

Luke, as always inches closer towards her, instinctively, as her eyes crinkle slightly with a weariness she cannot bother to disguise. She doesn’t need a mirror to confirm it, she has seen this exact expression looking back at her on his brother’s face every day since they took Han away.

Leia knows she had also appeared unnecessarily harsh to Jyn Erso, tucked under Captain Andor's arm back in Canada, in the Rebel Base of Hoth, maybe because she resents her for not preventing Fett to do what he was ordered to. But the reason is mostly because misery loves company and she had wanted the woman to feel as wretched as she does. Seeing her parade around with the rebel spy had set her temper on fire. She's not as altruistic as Luke and she's tired and worried and angry and envious and...

"Leia? Come on pretty girl, let's get some sleep," Luke's soft forgiving voice chimes in against her ear, his nose nuzzling her temple like he's prone to do when he's getting sleepy — he's the cuddling sort.

"I can't, Luke, but go ahead."

"Not without you I won't. The air is tingling with all your brooding, sis, and I won't find sleep until you're next to me."

She rolls her eyes — air tingling, really? Did he take a poetry course at that boot camp ? — but lets him lead her to their bedroom. Her brother is the only one who can coax her into compliance, plus her wicked tongue had already done too much damage for one day.

He goes to the bathroom first and when she comes back with her hair braided for the night, he has already reunited their two beds into one and had fallen asleep, leaving the right side to her. She doesn't even know why she finds the sight surprising, for at five or at twenty, they had always loved sharing their space when times were hard, but tonight it's all the more endearing:

Their time together has been so far off and between growing up that they often clung to the games they were already too old to play to conjure the things they were still too young to be afraid of. Building a pillow fort to keep the monsters away is not so childish though, because the bogeyman is much too real, its very blood running in their veins.

Her sweet smile is wiped off by a shudder as she climbs in the bed and crawls into the overlapped covers — her brother is still very much a desert child, so he's easily cold at night. Leia puts his arm around her so that it circles her waist, basking in the primal rightness of their closeness and lets the sound of his soft snores slowly lulls her to peacefulness.

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

_Maybe love’s an accident, or destiny is true_  
_But you and I were born beneath a star of dazzling blue_  
_Dazzling blue_  
_Dazzling blue, roses red, fine white linen_  
_To make a marriage bed_  
_And we’ll build a wall that nothing can break through_  
_And dream our dreams of dazzling blue_


	14. Cassian — One Man’s Ceiling Is Another Man’s Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Andor is in action, Ladies and Gents, but Far Galaxy Housing is a dangerous place to live in...
> 
> Please leave me a few words if you liked reading.

_There’s been some hard feelings here_  
_About some words that were said_  
_Been some hard feelings here_  
_And what is more_  
_There’s been a bloody purple nose_  
_And some bloody purple clothes_  
_That were messing up the lobby floor_  
_It’s just apartment house rules_  
_So all you ‘partment house fools_  
_Remember: one man’s ceiling_  
_Is another man’s floor_  
_One man’s ceiling_  
_Is another man’s floor_

  
_._

  
_._

  
_._

 

Captain Andor got relatively off the hook, all things considered, switching an assignment for another like this: if there’s anything good that came out of this Han Solo affair, it’s that at least he has a valid reason to stick around at FGH, one that doesn’t have to mention Jyn to his superior.

Of course, he’s sure that with their three days trip to Canada, their dirty little secret will be exposed to Draven sooner than later: he believes Mon Mothma always had a soft spot for Jyn, at least a great deal of respect for her, since they all met in the Yavin 4 in Copenhagen, so she would see no reason to hold her tongue. 

But he's sure the older man will cut him some slack, now that from a Rebel perspective there’s a clear plan of action, not only sanctioned by Senator Organa but by Mothma herself and besides, he’s not turning back on Jyn ever again — and no orders, blackmail or misplaced concern over his total dedication to the cause can prevail over the depth of his need for her. 

Cassian frowns, realizing that he doesn't want to share this — even the mere idea of her — with the man that for all intent and purpose had raised him. It's not the first time he keeps a secret involving Jyn Erso of course, but at the time of their first acquaintance, she and him weren’t even an item, and he went behind his back along with the whole Rogue One clique at the time. If for her that was already a personal affair, with Saw Gerrera, her father Galen, and the Jedhan temple, he did it because it served the cause, because he believed in her when she said it’d be vital to the Rebellion.

And she'd been right, the monstrosity never came to fruition, thanks to her tenacity and their friends' sacrifice. Draven didn't see it like that though, and his mouth twists even further downward at the thought. He cannot remember the last time he'd ever deliberately held something back from his mentor since he was in age of giving his input — glossing over gruesome details in debriefs notwithstanding. 

"Cassian," Jyn murmurs mischievously, "I don't know what you're thinking about, but you should stop, it makes you look constipated."

"We can't have that, do we?" he replies, already feeling lighter.

"Not yet at least, wait for the clandestine FGH’s resistance," she replies, taking his bag from his hand while he closes the door of what has been Joreth Sward's apartment for the last five months — far longer than any undercover mission should last.

"Didn't we just start it?" he whispers, mindful of the people they're passing in the hall. 

Jyn doesn't answer right away, calling for the elevator. He doesn't try to take back the bag from her, preferring to entwine their fingers together as they enter. Already, the atmosphere around them changes, buzzing like electricity — and not in a good way: 

His hand is a little stiffer in hers. Jyn starts playing with her crystal necklace nervously. When they begin their ascent to the seventh floor, he raises her knuckles to his lips, but his question remains unanswered, and he has to prompt her:

"Jyn, what did you mean by FGH’s clandestine resistance?"

"Didn't you do your homework, Captain Andor? Do you even know the names of the tenants? You said you were interested by the residents."

"Some more than others," he admits, smirking, hoping to elicit at least a giggle from her, or a snort, but all she can muster is an half smile.

"You'll see what I mean then. It's organized in the twins' living room."

He puts his bag in the flat Jyn took residence in, and tries to ignore how Chewie, the tall and long haired Vet, is weighing him down. From his data he knows the guy is mute but his frown lets him know how unimpressed he seems to be. Be as it may, Cassian guesses that ultimately the guy thinks him all right, in a limited sort of way, and the bag finds its way to Jyn's room. 

Like his — or more specifically like Joreth Sward’s temporary stay — her room is maddeningly impersonal. That's why the interior of her wardrobe, which is strangely left open, has Cassian suddenly short of breath:

There's only an handful of clothes inside, on higher shelves, but the rest is missing (the space should be wide enough for her to sit inside) and the wood panel is engraved from inward. The messy scrawls are definitely Jyn's, the names harshly scribbled: besides Galen and Lyra Erso, Saw Gerrera, and probably a few Partisans, the names of the Rogue One members are scratched, no, _scarred_ on the wood to stay forever. Baze Malbus, Chirrut Îmwe, James Kay... Cassian is sweating by the time his eyes catches his. He checks around him to be sure Jyn is still occupied with teasing her flat mate, and he closes the door behind him, pulling out his pocket knife before he has time to reconsider. 

He scratches his own name until the indentation makes it unreadable. Once it's done, he feels better. If he has anything to say about it, not only he won't belong to this list of casualties, but Jyn won't have to hide in there for as long as he can pull her out of the tide, as she put it.

The point is that his nerves are already a bit raw when all rebels affiliates and people aware of the Empire get together in the Skywalker-Kenobi's home. With the rescue in mind, Captain Andor manages to be effective, and appreciates the input of General Kenobi who is on the phone and those of the tenants who can offer suggestions. If the first milestones were already laid by the higher strategists of the Rebellion in Canada, it's nice to find they have field coverage if necessary.

What Cassian didn't expect is that Lieutenant Shara Bey-Dameron would corner him as soon as the meeting came to a close: 

"It was a great briefing, Captain Andor. I only have one question for now: where were you when your actual brother in arms needed help within these forsaken walls?" 

He gently tugs Jyn's hand away from his arm and he sees her flinch slightly at the ‘let me deal with it’ look he addresses her. She frowns before stepping aside to engage Chewie into a conversation of sorts, so Cassian turns his attention entirely on the pale-faced woman, whom he had seen smiling in a church merely a year before, as a priest welcomed her son "in the great family of Christians".

By nature, Shara isn't a bitter person, and the vehemence of the verbal abuse seems out of character for her. The widow is letting off steam by ranting to him in Spanish, he knows that. She's is looking for someone to blame and Cassian fills the bill, even if he's no Imperial : he had worked with Kes for years before, had actually attended the child's baptism, because Dameron asked him to and he had been the only Latino around — they felt kinship of language, in Canada — and he's alive. Her husband is not. 

Captain Andor had heard he had been severely beaten and likely died from it on an undercover investigation, he didn't know it actually happened within Far Galaxy Housing, though.

"Tell me Cassian, what makes you so different from Kes? Are you happy, hidden like this but pampered by the woman you love, in the very place where I've lost the father of my child? Is it worth it?"

It would be so tempting to say yes, so easy to crush her further, but Cassian isn't so cruel. It would be easier for the two of them, if he were. So instead, he answers the widow at the best he's currently capable of, and signs his heart to self-destruction again. Jyn would know how to patch it up later, hopefully, it's hers anyway.

He almost wants Shara to feel his confusion, and the bitter taste that still lingers on after all this time, just for a moment: then maybe she would understand that both the Empire and the Rebellion have brought him suffering, too. If she knew how much it hurt him to see Jyn again, when everyone else had died, would it ease the loss plainly visible on her face, turning her in this shell of the woman all in the Alliance knew and respected? He has Jyn now, it's true, but that doesn't mean he deserves to be with her and he doesn't need Shara's startling judgmental stare and mourning garb to know that.

"Shara, Kes knew there was danger in FGH, but you chose to stay regardless because you both believed in the cause."

"Your girl doesn't, Andor. She's bad news, you can't tell me otherwise. Death follows her like a cloak. Ask Kay."

He sees Jyn stiffen nearby, but Shara likely doesn't know she can understand Spanish as well as she, probably. Cassian is furious at her, wants to defend Jyn, to rage at her impudence for bringing Kay into her selfish recriminations, but holds his tongue, out of respect for Dameron. The second time his wife pulls something like that, he'd have a few selected words with her, but for now he just lets out through clenched teeth:

"I never meant to hurt you, back there. But never say that again about Jyn Erso in my presence, Shara. Grief doesn't make you as innocent as Poe, and I know you're far better than this. Once you've come to your senses, I'm sure we can talk like friends again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got people I have to see."

The harm is done though, and Cassian is deeply troubled when they all go back to their own apartments. Chewie decides to have a joyride with Lando Calrissian in the ‘Falcon’ — Han Solo’s equipped van, that he got from Calrissian in the first place, apparently. They offer to take them along, but it’s not Cassian’s style at all, and Jyn is not in the mood for drunken shenanigans either. 

He knows she's actually a pretty decent cook, and so is he, for that matter, but tonight Jyn shows barely enough dexterity to put sandwiches together. He's too emotionally drained to don an apron anyway, and both nibble on the bread like they have no real appetite to speak of.

Just when he finally believes they would not speak about Shara’s embittered outburst, Jyn's remorseful voice squeezes his heart, as they come to bed:

"We heard Dameron, Cassian, some even saw it, but nobody did anything. She’s wrong to put any kind of blame on you, but she’s right about me. You denying it doesn’t make it any less true."

"Don't take it to heart, I ignore what we did to earn this reaction, but it wasn't the Shara Bey we've known."

Jyn doesn't contradict him, and suddenly it comes to him: it's still the 24th of May — the Damerons had actually married seven years ago. It's no excuse, but Cassian understands the unusual harshness better. Poor Shara, poor Poe… He pulls Jyn closer to him, by reflex, and promise silently to visit the Dameron household in the morning — the little boy must have grown.

"Still," Jyn says calmly, "I've known more dead people than alive ones, it's not a good omen for you."

"I’m taking my chances, then. I have rubbed shoulders with death since I was six years old, you know that better than anyone. When Death comes, I want to have you with me."

It’s nothing but the truth, actually, it already happened once before. It’s not a cheesy line for them, the summary of a traumatic experience more than a romantic declaration, but somehow Jyn sends him a radiant smile, and he returns it before kissing her.

It’s what he should have done that day, and all the ones until they meet the reaper again.

They should have died a few years before, on that beach with their friends. Maybe they'll meet their maker in their old age, or be reduced to nothing but dust within FGH, like Dameron. 

But as long as he has the taste of Jyn, he doesn’t care.

  
  
_.  
_

  
.   


_.  
_

  
.   
  
There’s been some strange goin’s-on   
And some folks have come and gone   
And the elevator man don’t work no more   
I heard a racket in the hall   
And I thought I heard a fall   
But I never opened up my door   
It’s just apartment house sense   
It’s like apartment house rents   
Remember: one man’s ceiling   
Is another man’s floor   
I tell you, one man’s ceiling   
Is another man’s floor


	15. Chewie — The Cool, Cool River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han's rescue through Chewie's eyes... Let's hope everything will turn okay, shall we?  
> Read and enjoy, perhaps leave me a few words too...

_I believe in the future_  
_I may live in my car_  
_My radio tuned to_  
_The voice of a star_  
_Song dogs barking at the break of dawn_  
_Lightning pushes the edge of a thunderstorm_  
_And these old hopes and fears_  
_Still at my side_

_._

 

_._

 

_._

The Hutt's Palace — a hovel masquerading as a nightclub — would not have stood out as much in Las Vegas, or in the shadier districts of Miami, Los Angeles, New York, Detroit or wherever there's more sinners than regular people. It's not reserved to the United States, Force knows.

That's why the Empire's so powerful, it's everywhere and in the middle of nowhere all at once.

He thinks that eventually the Rebellion will manage to expose the Empire, enough for regular authorities to take action. Or the damn thing will implode because it’s just so big for just a handful of power seeking bastards like Tarkin, or Hux, not to mention Palpatine who is already ninety or so… Be as it may, his friends would probably all keep the imprint of the organization on their skins and their minds — like the constant aching reminder of a wound that will never heal. Chewie knows how that feels well enough.

He had never liked the idea of staying at Far Galaxy Housing, the environment was toxic, to say the least: you don’t try to stay under the Empire’s radar by paying them rent every month, for fuck's sake. But Kenobi himself brought the Skywalkers there anyway, and Solo was already infatuated with the girl and a good friend of the boy, so he had overlooked his argument. It was FGH or they’d just keep on leaving in the ‘Falcon’ and would eventually have to let down Jyn Erso and Bodhi Rook by the side of a road, right where they had picked them.

Chewie couldn’t accept that, he’s no quitter. Once a marine, always a marine and the motto Semper Fi is not a fancy thing but a way of life. You can take the man out of the army but not the army out of the man, or so they say. Besides, one never retires from service, you get discharged. There’s a big difference. Even though Erso and Rook never enlisted, they’d still fought a different kind of war, and Chewie considers them brothers in arms, of a sort.

You don’t abandon comrades on the battlefield, ever.

So he caved, despite knowing it was a trap, that it would backfire sooner than later. The mess with Han was bound to happen. He’d known the rascal his whole life. He’d been in a military hospital near Chicago, recovering from the piece of sheet metal that damaged his vocal chords and his jaw, when his cousin barged in and told him she’d take in the sleeping five-year-old since she was ‘the best around at foster care’.

She had taken his forced silence for assent, and he didn’t mind. She was used to pick up strays, this woman: Chewie could face a battalion blindfolded, had already been outranked for outright disobedience (only Yoda’s good word had saved his ass) but he couldn’t argue with her — and that was even counting the time before he lost his voice. Not that he’d been a really talkative dude, to begin with, but still.

Pretty soon after, the war ended and Hell broke loose, but he’d not gotten involved — he didn’t need to be dispatched again, anyway. When Yoda voluntarily sank into Louisiana to organize his own little resistance cell, Kenobi burdened himself with doing damage control in Skywalker’s personal mess (the Negotiator had always been far too involved in the guy’s life — and he with his — for it to be healthy). But Chewie just watched his cousin’s brood of misfits come and go, letting his hair grow past his back, just because he could. Civilian life was as good as it could get, and while he had former ties in the 'Empire VS Rebellion' vendetta, it didn’t affect him.  


It affected those he cared about, though, and Han has always been his favorite.

And here he is, letting Vader’s kids take charge of the rescue mission, flouting all logic in favor of offering backup if needed. It was months of planning in the making: Jabba has likely heard about him through Han, probably knew his face too, so he couldn’t be the one doing the ass-kicking. Rebel stunts apparently succeed on subtlety... Insert a snort here. Empire doesn’t play by the same rules (assassinations, abduction, randoms attacks, blackmail, blockades) but never mind that, they needed almost four months to be smooth… bureaucrats.

Leia Organa had been determined to take part, along with the men: the chick had balls as tough as her twin’s, and with a good head for tactics, too, while Luke had the instinct and luck, all the characteristics that had once possessed Anakin "The Hero With No Fear" Skywalker. They sure could take over the world far more effectively than their fucked up beyond all recognition daddy could ever dream of, but at the moment, Chewie is glad to have them on his side. 

He’s not the only military standing in the bleachers, though, and while Draven’s protégé had been fairly involved in the process beforehand, he too is waiting for Lando Calrissian’s signal. The man is actually looking like he enjoys himself, perched on a barstool and so close to Erso you'd think they had forgotten why they were here for. Chewie knows it's a sham though, the Mexican's eyes register everything, and Jyn just coded him that Lando gave the go-ahead.

The rebel informants were right and he and the Skywalker twins find Han in some sort of a cell, behind the stacks in the basement. He's in a pretty bad shape, filthy and even thinner than they expected, and has a hard time coming around when the girl speaks to him. For his part, Chewie can’t help himself, getting all fussy like a mother hen. He knows it’s neither the time nor the place, but even though his pal is weak, he’s so relieved to see him in one piece that Han himself complains in a tiny voice, disorientated.

Of course, they fear Jabba or his folks might spot them, so Leia and Jyn are offering a good diversion. From an aesthetic point of view, they're both pretty hot babes, dancing wantonly on the dance floor right in front of the boss, while the men manage to put Han to safety inside the car, using the backdoor. All goes according to the plan. Until Jabba tries to feel Leia up, and it all goes down from there.

Amateurs. 

Andor swears heartily in Spanish and bolts out to get to Jyn, Skywalker hot on his heels. Leia had punched Jabba hard enough for the sound to reach to where he and Lando are leaning against ‘the Falcon’, waiting until everyone can scam inside next to Han and get the Force away from that hellhole.

Chewie growls, reflecting on the stupidity of involving hot blooded females, because he knows Erso is bloody lethal in a brawl, even when she’s not armed — which she currently is — and the last thing they need is bringing more attention to themselves.

From afar, they see Andor engaging Jyn into a make out session, discretely averting everyone's attention from the scene while slowly taking her towards the exit. The guy's good, and both older men snort simultaneously to see the couple combine business with pleasure.

That's why no one puts the pressure on Luke, who has pulled his sister into a bone-crushing hug — whether it was to comfort her or them both. But if Chewie thought the scene with Jabba were already messy enough, it's nothing compared to the artificial breathing sound that suddenly freezes everybody.

Vader has just arrived and he's not alone.

"Find Skywalker," his cavernous voice booms at the club's entrance, while Jabba himself — barely recovered from the right hook he received — rushes to welcome the squad, all slimy and obsequious.

Well, everyone finds the situation bloodcurdling except for the one with the target on his back, who forcefully pushes his sister out of the way, telling them to go without him and ignores her protests while Lando fumbles, turning up the ignition.

Fuck.

Careful planning or not, there's going to be a bloodshed tonight.

Leia struggles with all her might against his grasp, screeching that she cannot leave her twin, and it takes him, Andor and Erso to get her in the car. For one so tiny, she's surprisingly hard to manhandle. Maybe because he thinks she's right. Even risking Vader and his troops, they can't leave Luke alone to face the music.

He reads the same sentiment on Captain Andor's face, and Jyn Erso clenches her jaw, seeing that, her typical frown darkening her whole face. Calrissian himself left the motor turning but he has yet to decamp, which is out of character for such a coward.

You don’t abandon comrades on the battlefield, ever.

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_Who is a witness to, who is a warrior_  
_Who denies his urge to break and run_  
_Who says, “Hard times?_  
_I’m used to them_  
_The speeding planet burns_  
_I’m used to that_  
_My life’s so common it disappears”_  
_And sometimes even music_  
_Cannot substitute for tears_


	16. Bodhi — Cool Papa Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ripples of Han's rescue reach the Dagobah Center, alas even in Louisiana all is not well.
> 
> Note: About the narrative, everything is done on purpose. Dagobah is its own bubble, and it took months to rescue Han. I hope that feeling of "suspended time" comes through. It was something Paul Simon talked about while evoking his songwriting. He often comments on things AFTER it happened.
> 
> Read and enjoy despite the heavy stuff, please leave me a few words too?

It turns out to be   
A great thing for me   
I don’t worry   
And I don’t think   
Because it’s not my job to worry or to think   
Not me   
I’m more like   
Every day I’m here, I’m grateful   
And that’s the gist of it   
Now you may call that a bogus   
Bullshit, New Age point of view   


  
.   


  
.   


  
.   


  
Bodhi Rook, against all odds, has just celebrated the anniversary of his arrival in the Dagobah training center.   


Outside, people go on with their lives, whether the Empire is a reality for them or not. But he looks to all of this from afar, still tethered to this unusual boot camp. He keeps in touch with Jyn, Chewie and the people at FGH everyday, passes on information and suggestions when he can, but the fact is undeniable: he made a home here.    


Volunteers kept coming in and out for various periods of times, but he stayed far longer than any of them. Slowly, but surely, he had started to shadow Yoda, seconding him in spirituals exercises and teaching the beginner’s course all by himself. Who would have thought?   


Some have even started to call him Master! The first time it happened, he almost choked himself to death on his Darjeeling and Ben had to smack his back a few times for good measure. Bodhi had stammered that he wasn’t worthy of that title, but Yoda had hummed, pursing his lips. When Bodhi tried to explain that even Chirrut had never called himself that back at the Jedhan temple, he said it wasn’t you that decided if you were knowledgeable enough in the ways of Force, your disciples did.   


Bodhi had kept his mouth shut after that.   


However, even not provoked prematurely, death takes everyone by surprise.   


Since all the years Yoda had been living in Louisiana and founded the Dagobah center, he had very rarely communicated with ‘the outside world’. Bodhi had long suspected the true reason for the limited access wasn't only due to training. The majority of the staff had agreed to that because every transmission meant a danger — as slight as it may be — to the people transitioning in Dagobah, and freedom fighters, for those who chose to fight or recover from the Empire. 

Obviously, in establishing a connection directly to FGH, the organization was likely to wiretap and trace the signals back to either the rebels within the building, the Skywalker twins or to Ben here. If Yoda was willing to risk that, it had to be serious as it sounded.   


The old man was dying, and eventually declined in a matter of days. It was hardly a surprise when it happened, he was close to a hundred, believe it or not, but Bodhi was still left gaping, as was Luke who had communicated with him last.   


It was hard to phantom the Dagobah training center without the man — the unique soul — who founded it in the first place. But everyone was determined not to interrupt the programs, and Yoda’s legacy, his life's work, was still thriving through the very recent loss. As a firm believer of the Force, everyone was convinced it was what mattered the most to the man and would be the best way to honor his memory.   


By special consultation committee, Bodhi has amazingly been designated as Yoda’s successor in the function of chaplain and referent in the Church of the Force courses. It left him speechless, but apparently Yoda himself had left this suggestion for them to study in case he died, and Master Rook awkwardly accepted the position until someone more qualified than him could be found.   


Jyn was immensely proud of him, though, called him Jedhan master instead of his usual nickname of pilot, and even Cassian’s quiet reassurance on the phone made him happy to be chosen.   


It was hard to own up to this, but he tried. Ben was still here to allay his concerns with a word or a turn on the ring, and eventually he regained his footing somewhat.

Until the former General Kenobi comes to speak to him at the breakfast table the morning following Han’s rescue mission. Bodhi is extremely fidgety already, as no text has come to update him on the situation, but this time the most important figure of Dagobah does nothing to ease his worry:   


"I'm the twins' emergency contact. There's been... an incident, Bodhi."   


Ben had never called him Bodhi in front of strangers, and that alone convinces him his bad feeling wasn't just an illusion, volunteers are starting to buzz like bees around them, but he has no difficulty ignoring that when he sees the man licking his lips, his refined accent not softening the harsh news:   


"They got Han Solo back, but the Empire... Vader came personally to seek out Luke."   


"Force, Ben, no!"   


All the caution they had taken has been for naught, then. Bodhi feels nauseous, his hands getting so clammy he has to grip the sides of his chair with all his strength not to fall.   


"Don't be too alarmed. The Hutt's Palace as been ravaged, but all your friends are alive, and out of Imperial custody."   


"But if you're the twins' emergency contact... what don't you tell me? C’mon, what happened back there?"   


"I need you not to trouble yourself overmuch with something you have no power over. Master Rook, your entire focus should stay on the Dagobah Center until I return. I have to go to Luke," he says, voice finally breaking with the cry that is probably hanging in the back of his throat.    


Despite the trademark smooth commanding tone, as firm as ever, his eyes — like his own, probably — are pain stricken, glossy with worry and pure exhaustion. But it’s nothing compared to his appearance as a whole, making him look like he has aged nearly overnight. That alone is saying something, since he had already looked older than his true age since the rise of the Empire: he is not even sixty yet, but you'd easily give him a decade more.   


It’s as if Bodhi is looking at a complete stranger now, rather than the man who had somehow managed to become a great friend to him. He knows he should insist, he's dreadfully worried about Luke, Jyn, Cassian and the rest of his friends, and his fingers are itching with the need to call them.    


But ultimately Ben is right, with Yoda already gone, the least he can do is stay the course here and he nods unconvincingly, despite knowing that one word of Jyn or Cassian would suffice for him to go back on his word: he's a deserter and a rogue, after all, he reflects with an odd sense of pride.   


As high member of the board, Kenobi gives his temporary notice for familial reasons, as only a select few in the supervising staff are aware of the Empire. Bodhi sees Ahsoka Tano hug the old General with tears in her eyes, though, and she's the one he's leaving in charge of the center for the time being. Their friendship goes way back from the beginning of the war, as he understands from older colleagues. It is obvious Miss Tano knows what his departure is all about, and it pulls on the former pilot’s heartstrings.   


When Ben leaves — volunteers are making him a guard of honor, applause included — it feels more final than he probably intended to. Whilst he bows ceremonially to everyone and salutes other military men present, only to Bodhi does he address discreetly a promise to keep him posted.   


Bodhi believes that day will be forever sealed in his memory, right alongside with the day in the Scarif Center, the day the Jedhan temple was destroyed and his home burned or the day Saw started his interrogation.    


Precisely thirty-six hours after General Kenobi left the rehabilitation center, Bodhi wakes up in sweat and no amount of meditation or camomile tea can erase his feeling of unease. That being said, it isn't until Miss Tano tells him and the rest of the supervisors Mon Mothma herself is on the phone, that he knows that morning is even worse than all he could have come up with.   


General Benjamin Kenobi has passed away, the cab he took to reach Anchorhead never reached his destination, falling in a ravine in mysterious, likely Imperial circumstances. The timing was horrendously too convenient for them to be just a coincidence. They were trying — and yet again succeeding — to isolate freedom fighters from their allies, to finally remove Ben from the chessboard. Bodhi chokes on his tears at the thought that most of all, Luke and Senator Organa will have to go on without their last and oldest protector.   


He knows hatred is not the way of the Force, but it burns wildly in his guts and he curses to the darkest pits of hell every wretched criminals partaking in the bane of their existence. These fucking monsters deserve to die one by one, each more painfully than the next. It wouldn't bring any of their dear ones back, but he'd feel better if the casualties were more balanced, if ultimately all Imperials were wiped out from the surface of Earth forever.   


Thankfully, the news of Ben's demise had leaked by then and all the seminars are cancelled, for Bodhi is sure he can't accept anyone's condolences yet, Master rank or not. Everybody seems stricken by grief, and no one stops him when he goes back to his room.    


Tears roll on continuously on his cheeks to the point he has difficulty dialing the number he had composed more than any other. He doesn't call, knowing hearing him sob would only distress his friend further, but Jyn's answer to his long text is immediate and straight to the point.   


"We'll make Vader pay. Cassian will call you asap. Take care, pilot."   
  
.   


  
.   


  
.   


  
Have you all heard the news:   
Heaven Finally Found   
Ok, it’s six trillion light years away   
But we’re all gonna get there someday   
Yes, we’re all gonna get there one day   
We all gonna get, we all gonna get, we…   
But—but not you   
You stay and explain   
The suffering and the pain you caused   
The thrill you feel when evil dreams come true


	17. Han — Gone At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han Solo is saved but he finds the price of his freedom too high and the aftermath bitter.  
> Please leave me a few words if you enjoyed your reading.

_ I ain’t dumb  _

_ I kicked around some  _

_ I don’t fall too easily  _

_ But that girl looked so dejected  _

_ She just grabbed my sympathy  _

_ Sweet little soul, now, what’s your problem?  _

_ Tell me why you’re so downcast  _

_ I’ve had a long streak of bad luck  _

_ But I pray it’s gone at last  _

_ .  _

_._

_._

"Who is this?"

At first, he couldn't see anything and felt cold as fuck. He has been kept in the dark for too long, both literally and figuratively, though the blindness, thankfully, was only temporary. But the softness of the dainty hand on his own had given him the answer before he heard it:

"Someone who loves you."

He's covered in bruises and cuts — the room service in the Hutt’s Palace wouldn't deserve any tips, that's for sure! — but he is still in one piece and it's more than can be said about Luke. And typically, they have Vader and his gigantic Imperial clusterfuck to thank for this.

Chewie thinks he shouldn't be out of bed just yet, but after they bolted out to the nearest hospital for his check-up, he is not the one needing to be fussed over anymore.

The cops of Anchorhead — after interrogating everyone inside the very hospital — are taking an awfully long time talking to Leia, though. Han frowns, knowing the woman is talented and steely enough to stick to the cover version they've all agreed upon no matter what, and while he catches Andor’s mouth tightening nearby before going out, presumably to make a call, Jyn receives a text that drains her cheeks out of blood.

Before he can ask what's going on, the cops are releasing the Senator — seeing her in tears catch him off guard — and his anxiety grows tenfold when they take their leave offering their condolences.

Kriff, Luke couldn't be dead, he's still in surgery!

The terror must have been obvious on his otherwise pretty good poker face, because immediately the brunette comes to announce the news bravely in the middle of the circle of friends:

”Benjamin Gordon Alec Kenobi won't be coming here after all. He's… I've been told they've just found his body.”

You could hear a pin drop, after that declaration. Han, like he did when first waking up in the club, doesn’t quite feel like himself. How could Kenobi be dead, just like that? Why, when, where? But he comes to himself when Chewie almost punches the wall — which would have been pretty stupid, them being on a hospital and all, already singled out by the cops… — but he stops himself just in time.

He doesn't waste any time in wondering how the others are faring because Leia comes to put her head on his chest in an uncharacteristic show of weakness:

"Will there ever be an end to this suffering?" she asks brokenly, her voice shaking with tears that are making Chewie’s eyes bright. "Ben… Luke will be devastated, compared to him, I feel like I have no right to grieve. That is, if I can spare the bloody time anyway."

It's bullshit of course, his princess has as much right as anybody else to grieve for that loony old man, but he gets it. Luke shares a special bond with him, and they were already quite shaken up after the Vader vs Luke confrontation in the Hutt’s Palace.

Han really begins to understand how people can vow their entire life to the destruction of the Empire. It's evident that it's no coincidence, and when the rebel spy confirms it minutes later, all are nodding gloomily. It's about the time when a guy in scrubs comes to update them on Luke's whereabouts:

"The surgery was a success, there were no complications. Mr Skywalker is heavily sedated, though, and probably won't be awake for a few hours if you want to go home," he says quickly, darting nervous looks at them.

Han sees Chewie nodding his comprehension from the corner of his eyes, but despite how weak he's still feeling from his extensive trip to Jabba's, he dreads the perspective of leaving Leia to her own devices. With Kenobi dead — this is surreal and he has to form the words in his head for the fact to register — with Kenobi _dead_ , the twins are their only kin left.

He will stay, for Leia, and for Luke, he owes them all of that and more. Besides, the last time he rented a hotel room, things had turned pretty bad for him. Lando isn't around this time, choosing to head back to Seattle early to inform the FGH tenants himself that he’s back, but the plastic chairs might actually be the better alternative for Han. He'd be a fool to test the odds a second time, just in case all their Force New Age crap is not so rubbish.

They don't hold a vote to know who will stay, but Chewie comes to pat Leia's hair and Erso sits a little more comfortably in her own chair. Andor's back on the phone outside, but he left his leather jacket on the back of her chair and Jyn plays distractedly with one sleeve, pulling it closer to her like the Latino was still in it.

And to think that they all thought the twins got a bit too touchy freely sometimes... Han doesn't know if he finds that spooky, funny or just sad anymore.

Occupied by his private thoughts, he nearly misses the guy telling they'd soon transfer Luke to a private room. Leia nods before turning to look at him over her shoulder:

“Han, will you come with me?”

“Of course, lead the way your highness.”

Despite his unnatural pallor, the kid looks peaceful, his blond hair completely hidden by the bandages partly covering his face; it reminds Han of how Luke would never have agreed to cut it so short had he been awake. He liked to keep his hair pretty long, probably to keep the whole Californian surfer style he had sported in the beginning, when they first met.

Leia ignores it all, following the nurses as they wheel her brother in a room nearby, her heart likely pounding so painfully her hand is pressed to her chest. She watches silently through a glass window as they hook him up to various machines and Han comes behind her to put his hand on her shoulders, to steady her.

"May I sit with him?" she asks a nurse hoarsely, visibly trying to get a grip on herself.

"Are you family?"

"Yes," she says a tad too harshly, masking her brimming eyes under a brave scowl. 

While in the waiting area Chewie all but growl at the clueless nurse like a dog, his warrior princess does not quiver. Andor is too stoic to be natural, Jyn tense next to him, but the woman — the outsider — still smiles in understanding at Leia, unfazed by the tension. He guesses it’s nothing out of the ordinary, for her.

"We'll all be just outside if you need us princess," he says as gently as possible, giving her one last try at a reassuring smile and closing the door on the twins.

In the following hours, they get no reason to smile: they say that for a soul to come back, one has to go, or some shit like that — Han’s not clear on the details — but whether it’s a galore or not, it doesn’t make things easier.

Upon his waking, Luke's seems to sense something is wrong. Once he's told about Kenobi, his wails are so loud they have to knock him out again with meds, the poor kid.

Leia doesn't let go of her twin’s free hand — as the other is hindered by a cast — for hours, not listening to whoever tries to make her eat or sleep somewhat.

The future is bleaker than before, as painful as it is to admit it: before FGH, it seemed relatively easy to mind his own business without thinking about the Empire. Living in the Falcon with Chewie, joking around with friends, doing things not exactly legal but not downright criminal either, these were the good old days. Vader, Palpatine and others so called Imperials didn't cross his mind at all.

Since then, the smuggler must admit he doesn't have the same luxury. Without him noticing, he tied himself to their secret war until he's neck deep into the mess. You can't gravitate around the Skywalker twins and maintain neutrality.

Jyn Erso had said to him in the beginning that there wouldn't be a problem ‘if they didn't look up’, whatever she'd meant by that. Rook had let out a nervous giggle that Han didn't understand then. Now he does. Nobody, even that shaken guy playing Dalaï Lama somewhere in Louisiana, remains untouched by the Empire’s crap for long.

At the risk of sounding ridiculously cheesy, he's glad to have people in his corner though: Chewie, Jyn, Bodhi, Lando, even Andor, in a way — not to mention other FGH tenants whom he was quite friendly with.

Who knows, maybe he wouldn't be alive had they not put their asses in the line for him. He has to repay that somehow, all the more because Leia and Luke, especially, are needing him. He won't bail on a friend in need, particularly if it's something that affect the woman he loves.

He only hopes their unity will be strong enough to make the Empire sorry, even erase the thing completely. This can't go on, even if Han has to kill Palpatine himself, they had all lost enough. Now it's time for retribution.

_._

_._

_._

_Once in a while, from out of nowhere_

_When you don’t expect it, and you’re unprepared_

_Somebody will come and lift you higher_

_And your burdens will be shared_

_Yes, I do believe, if I hadn’t met you_

_I might still be sinking fast_

_I’ve had a long streak of that bad luck_

_But I pray it’s gone at last_


	18. Luke — The Boy In The Bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital, Luke tries to deal with the shift in his world caused by Ben's death. Bodhi is here to help though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this story; this is my baby. I do have a bit of writer block on a chapter further ahead but I thought people lost all interest in this story. I'm glad RealNorwegian and NewLeeland (as always) showed me I was wrong.
> 
> Enjoy and PLEASE leave a few words if you liked it.

_It was a dry wind_  
 _And it swept across the desert_  
 _And it curled into the circle of birth_  
 _And the dead sand_  
 _Falling on the children_  
 _The mothers and the fathers_  
 _And the automatic earth_  
  


 

.

  
. 

  
. 

  
It has been years since he got to witness anything resembling to a sandstorm — they were exceptional, even in these dry parts of the United States — but the sound of sand scraping the windows is unmistakable, and has been long recorded in his memory. It brought back memories from childhood that are too bittersweet to recall at the moment: Beru’s biscuits and milk, Owen letting him hang out in his workshop, or his long discussions with old Ben in front of a comforting cup of tea. It's the last one that hurt the most, now, and Luke is convinced the pain wouldn't feel as raw if he went out like this, with his thin patient camisole, and exposed himself to the scorching grains for hours, as dramatic as it sounds. 

"You still haven’t called Bodhi Rook, have you?" Leia asks timidly, interrupting his fancies.

"Don’t you think we have other things to do?" her brother bites out, but a twinge of guilt is plain to see on her exhausted and grief-ridden face, so he adds in a milder tone, albeit somewhat petulantly, "besides, why should I call him?"

"He’s probably worrying himself sick over you. I would be, if I were in his shoes, just as you were too, when I’d pulled something like that. Besides, we’re dearly in need of friendly faces."

The defeat and exhaustion in his sister’s voice, usually brash with confidence, is easily one of the most heartbreaking things he has ever heard. Luke slumps against the pillow and tilts his head back to gaze up at the ceiling.

Leia studies him for a second, kisses his brow for longer than necessary then closes the door after herself. Then again, she is probably not the best person to lecture about self-inflicted withdrawal; she too, had more than her share of loss already.

She only hopes Luke will come around, for despite his return, losing Han is still a gaping wound, and she was quite attached to Ben too, had known him her whole life even if they didn't spent much time together until they came to FGH. They don't wish that pain to anyone, least of all their dearest companion, their twin, the only thing they have left in the world. 

He dials Bodhi who picks up after the third ring, before Luke as a chance to change his mind.

"Hello?"

"Bodhi, it's Luke, Luke Skywalker."

"Of course, I... are you okay? You were injured, no?"

That's why Ben has flown back to California after Yoda's sudden heart attack, that's why he's dead too. Because Father had to confirm Leia’s suspicions and now, they are directly in Palpatine’s line of sight. Ben can’t shield him anymore, not now that he’s in a casket and presumably one with the Force, so Luke does his best to swallow back his sob as he says:

"I'll manage. I nearly lost a hand and I'll probably have a few scars on my face, but it's nothing bad."

"I'm glad you're recovering and I'm sure scars will make you more dashing than you already are. Wait," Bodhi backtracks at his stunned silence, "I mean, I... you're..."

"I'm glad to hear it," he interrupts with an hint of a smile, voice thicker while his heart trumps furiously. "But… the thing is, Ben… his cremation is on Friday, Bodhi."

"I know, Jyn told me. We'll all miss Ben very much, and his death is truly the end of an area. I'll come with other volunteers, to pay my respects."

The same grief is passing on between the two men for a minute or two before finally Luke finds the courage to ask:

"About that, I wondered if you wouldn't mind coming early, I... we could all use the support."

The pregnant pause in his sentence has Luke breaking a sweat — he said too much or not enough — but thankfully Bodhi doesn’t let him dwell on it for long and the surprise doesn't mask his pleasure at being asked:

"Oh, sure, okay, I'll be glad to. Now that I’m a… well, the chaplain, I guess, I can leave Dagobah for a time and if you think my presence can help, I'll try to be in Palmdale tomorrow."

"Aren’t you in charge of the spiritual development or something, now? With Yoda gone… do you have that much time to spare?"

"I’m filling the position by default, you mean. I don’t think I’m remotely good enough at feeling his shoes, though. He was tiny but his shadow was immense, and I… was in pieces a year ago, I still am."

"He thought you were the most qualified to succeed him, he appointed you as such, and the staff — including Ben — doesn’t disagree, even supports this. I’m sure you’ll be grander at it than you already are."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he says wistfully, and Luke knows without having to see it that the cinnamon colored man is likely blushing, "still, they can definitely manage without me for a few days. Besides, I want to see Jyn for real, webcams aren't the same."

"I imagine. But you'll have a hard time catching her alone, she and Captain Andor are so joined to the hip nowadays that you should be worried.” 

"Oh, no, Cassian's a special case, he's my family too. I'll be so glad to see him in the flesh after all this time, and Jyn won't begrudge me time with him."

Good for them, then. Luke really has no family to speak of left himself and the thought sucks the air right from his lungs. The silence stretches on the line, but neither hang up. Luke hears Bodhi breathes in and out, and it's oddly comforting.

"Can you... pray with me or something? I'm not good at the meditation stuff. I didn't... take time to learn it when Ben... when I should have."

The words are harder and harder to find, tears soaking his cheeks as grief engulfs him slowly, threatening to drown him, but Bodhi is already throwing him a lifeline:

"It’s okay. Breathe. Repeat after me Luke, we'll go as slowly as you need to, just breathe and let the words sink in: I am one with the Force. The Force is with me."

He doesn’t know how much time they stay on the phone like this, just going back and forth through the basics of meditation, but the phone bill will surely be astronomical. He doesn’t want to know how he got the best orthopedic and plastics surgeons around on such a short notice, either. He doesn’t want to think about his meagre insurance policy as a mechanic, which surely isn’t enough to cover any kind of bills, period. 

The doctors said all was covered in advance, and Father would be twisted enough to pay for his care, after causing his injuries. Though to be fair, he hadn't meant to hurt him, and the worst of it happened in the blast set by his troopers, he thinks. But still, Ben is dead, and the only thing keeping him together is Bodhi’s accented voice, accompanying him to a kinder state of mind, thousands of leagues away in Louisiana.

He tries to puts all the rest on hold, but desperately wishes for the horizon to clear up, despite the tempest still going strong outside. It has always been easier to lay his problems to rest when he could stare at the distant constellations. As a child he used to picture himself on these tiny celestial bodies, he'd look over a mortal just like him, and his worries would automatically become insignificant in comparison.

Luke would give anything to be able to do this childish routine again.

But if one could hold the key to a higher level of existence, it was surely Bodhi Rook.  
  
. 

  
. 

  
. 

  
These are the days of miracle and wonder   
This is the long-distance call   
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo   
The way we look to us all   
The way we look to a distant constellation   
That’s dying in the corner of the sky   
These are the days of miracle and wonder   
And don’t cry baby don’t cry   
Don’t cry


End file.
